


Attempting Life

by Id_flyifihad_wings



Series: Attempting [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angel Tablet, Angst, Castiel Whump, Dean’s Big Mouth, Failing grace, First Kiss, First Time, Guilty Dean, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Possessed Sam, Self-Mutilation, Slow Burn, baby bird, depressed Cas, eating problems, hurt cas, super slow burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-11
Updated: 2018-08-12
Packaged: 2019-05-21 04:04:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 30
Words: 40,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14907992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Id_flyifihad_wings/pseuds/Id_flyifihad_wings
Summary: -Post Season 8, Pre Season 9-After Sam’s failed attempt to cure Crowley of his demonic prowess, Cas’s mistake of closing Heaven’s Gates, and Dean’s betrayal of allowing who he thought was Ezekiel into his brother’s body, the three regroup at the bunker with an exhausted Kevin.While Cas struggles with the weight of losing his wings and nursing a baby bird to adulthood, a determined Sam and guilty Dean take action. Something within the angel tablet catches Kevin’s attention, and they race to find Cas solace before it’s too late.(A 30 Day Writing Challenge. Each day is based on a word or phrase, with the added challenge of me combining the chapters to create a flowing story.)





	1. Day One - “Spread your Wings”

**Author's Note:**

> I decided to do this due to my immense writers block on Two Steps  
> I’m insanely sorry for not posting  
> I hope with this that I can set up a better schedule for myself and also practice my improved writing skills

Prompt a Day #1

“Cas, for the love of Christ, leave the thing alone,” Dean called as he came to Cas’s side and nudged him with a foot. 

Currently, the angel was cradling a weakly chirping baby bird, it’s featherless body sending shivers down Dean’s spine. “But he has fallen, Dean. And the mother will not come back for him.” He looked crestfallen at the weak animal, eyes full of sadness.

“Him?” scoffed Dean. “It’s a bird, dude. Not even the pet store guys know their genders,” he added. “Now leave it, and lets go. We’re wasting daylight, here.” 

Cas stood, tiny bird in hand (much to Dean’s exasperation) and followed him to the motel room. “Birds are strange creatures. Maybe more so than humans. This one will die if he’s not taken care of.” 

“That’s life, Cas. It sucks and then you die,” Dean snarked back. His back was to the angel so he couldn’t see the defeat settling in the smaller man’s shoulders. “Sam will be back soon, and then we’ve gotta go. We don’t have time to take care of that miserable thing.” 

“But, Dean -“ 

Dean cut Castiel off as if he hadn’t heard. “Besides, it can’t even fly. It’s pathetic.” As soon as the words left his mouth, Cas saw the lines of the hunter’s back stiffen. 

If he’d been looking at the angel, Cas would see his jaw clench and his eyes dart to the floor at his audacity. He turned to face Cas, a look of guilt Cas was unused to seeing glittering in his eyes. His mouth opened and closed, working around what the hell to say to mitigate his harshly idiotic words. 

Before he could think of anything, Sam was inside with the Impala’s keys. “Is that a bird?” he asked immediately when he noticed the poor thing in Cas’s hands. “Did it fall from the nest?” 

“Yes. I will care for him until he can fly again.” When Cas spoke, Dean could hear the tangy bitterness between his calm words to Sam. What an imbecile the hunter was, he mentally kicked himself several more times for good measure. 

Since the church where Sam had nearly killed himself “curing” Crowley, the angels had fallen from heaven. All of them. Including Cas, who was currently already running extremely low on his grace. Dean could never take those words back, he knew that, but it didn’t stop him from trying. 

“Don’t we have a shoebox in the trunk? We could -“ he stopped when Cas’s eyes met his own, but cleared his throat to continue. “We could, I dunno, make it a nest so it’s more comfortable.” 

“That’s a great idea, Dean!” exclaimed Sam. He hurried back out to retrieve the box, leaving Dean alone with Cas’s intense gaze. The one that made him fidget in his spot and awkwardly shuffle his feet. 

Sam returned moments later with the box. “I figured we could use some of the twigs for our hex bags. We have plenty of extra just lying around. And we can tear up one of our shirts to line it with so he’s warm.” 

Dean envied his little brother at that moment. He was so selfless, even to the tiny bird. And he wasn’t on the receiving end of Cas’s ocean-blue stare. “You can use one of my flannels. I’ve - uh - got plenty.” 

Sam didn’t catch the hesitation, or didn’t care, and nodded reaching to grab the offered clothing. And then he stopped. “Dude, this is like one of your favorites.” 

Dean felt his ears grow hot for no reason, and let out a brisk laugh. “What? No it’s not. I wouldn’t give my favorite flannel to a bird, Sam.” He didn’t even sound convincing to his own ears, but Sam simply rolled his eyes, slapped on his signature bitch face, and got to work shearing the fabric into strips. 

Cas’s penetrating gaze finally softened. He knew Sam was right, that was Dean’s favorite. And he’d offered it to the bird. “Can you hold Gabriel until I finish the nest?” he asked hopefully of the eldest Winchester. 

“Gabriel?” 

Cas nodded once. “That’s what I’m calling him.” He said it as if it were obvious. “I doubt Sam knows how to properly weave a bird’s nest, but I’ve studied the technique extensively.” 

At that, even Sam looked up to give the angel an amused grin. “Here, Cas.” He handed over the branches and twigs and watched as Cas’s deft hands quickly wound them together. Neither of them noticed Dean’s gentle handling of the bird, or how he cradled it close to his heart to keep it warm. The poor thing was shivering after all. 

When he finished the base, he took the fabric from Sam and used it to interlock the sides of the nest. It looked like a mess, until suddenly Cas did something to one of the sticks and it came into shape as a perfect replica of a bird’s nest. Sam looked on in disbelief. 

Cas gently set the nest into the shoebox with a satisfied smile. He stood to take the bird from Dean, only to see the hunter had propped himself against the window and held the baby animal so he could see the world. It warmed Cas’s heart. 

“Dean, the thing is done. Let Gabriel rest,” Sam piped in, noting the angel’s reluctance to interrupt. Dean hid his jerk of fear by rolling his shoulder as if it ached. He carefully handed the bird to Cas and allowed him to place it in the nest. Gabriel seemed happier already. 

“We will need to stop at a pet store in order to get proper food for him,” Cas spoke up as he lifted the shoebox into his arms. 

Dean snapped his fingers and held a hand out, palm up, to his brother. Sam dug in his pocket and tossed Dean his beloved car’s keys without another word. “Alright, let’s roll. We’ll get this baby flying in no time.” 

Cas couldn’t help the tug in his heart at the words and slowly rolled his shoulders when he was sure no one would see (though Dean noticed, despite the fact Sam believed him to be unobservant. He always noticed with Cas.) The lack of weight from his feathers stung more than words would, and he sullenly perched in the backseat. 

*****

After the pet store, Dean stopped the Impala long enough to let Cas feed and water the bird. He chirped much more happily once the angel was done. 

“Next stop, Lebanon,” announced Dean. He went to crank up the radio to listen to classic rock, but aborted the motion almost as soon as it began. He moved his hands to grip the steering wheel, tapping his thumbs on the black leather. 

“Really? No music?” asked Sam. 

Dean’s eyes flitted to his brother like he’d said the dumbest thing. “Dude. The bird.” He threw a thumb over his shoulder, motioning to Cas and the saved bird. 

Sam grinned but said nothing else. As if he were in on a joke dean had no idea about. “What’s so funny?” 

Sam raised his hands in surrender and dropped the smile. “Nothing. Just not like you, is all.” He turned away from his brother, staring out the window at the passing trees. Dean didn’t buy that for a second, but he didn’t care enough to press. They still had another hour or so to go before they reached Lebanon, and another ten minutes after that to reach the bunker. 

It would be a long drive.

*****

Sam switched the bunker lights on, and they came to life with a welcoming buzz. “Memory foam mattress, here I come,” Dean called as he hurried to his room. Despite the jerk Sam shot him when he pushed passed, it was actually really cool for Dean to have his own room. 

He’d shared one his entire life, and now he could have privacy when he wanted (too often, in Sam’s opinion) and could still get to his brother if needed. And then of course there was Castiel. 

Sam glanced at the angel as he moved to sit, still hugging the box as if his life depended on it. The younger brother could never grasp the concept of this “profound bond” the angel had with Dean. 

It made sense, he had pulled him from Hell and rebuilt every single part of him. He knew Dean on a subatomic level. But still, there was an unspoken intimacy between the two that never went unnoticed to Sam’s keen eyes. Often, he wondered if something else had happened in Hell. Something Dean had never bothered to mention because his brother wasn’t the sharing and caring type and, where Cas was concerned, always seemed even less so. There were even things that had gone down in Purgatory that Dean still never spoke of. 

Sam’s only source of knowledge was Castiel. And he seemed unwilling to talk about Purgatory, as if they had sworn each other to secrecy. But Hell was an open playing field. 

A soft chirp pulled Sam from his distracting thoughts as he moved to sit beside Cas. “I suppose Dean will take awhile. He was especially excited to take a warm shower,” the angel broke the silence first. 

Sam let out a chuckle and rapped his knuckles once against the incased map, resting his hand there for a moment before finally opening his mouth. “What did he say? To make him let you keep the bird?” 

Cas didn’t meet Sam’s gaze, and remained relaxed. Except to Sam’s gaze. He could see the slight clench of his fists as he leaned forward to inspect his bird. “Nothing of import.” 

“Bull,” Sam shot back immediately. The angel barely flinched at the words, but did nonetheless. “You can talk to me about anything, Cas. That’s what friends are for.” 

Cas gave a small nod. “It was about the bird. Because it had fallen,” he started. “And I brought it back to the motel room with us, against his wishes.” 

“Shit, Cas, did he yell at you?” Sam asked on instinct. Despite the softness Dean seemed to have for the angel, he still had a temper. 

Cas gave a short bark, barely a laugh, and shook his head. “No. He said it was pathetic. The bird.” He paused for a long moment, the silence drawing distance between them. 

Sam was dumbfounded. That’s what Dean had said to upset Cas in this way? To warrant him making up for it in shoeboxes and favorite flannels. 

It didn’t seem quiet right. And then Cas suddenly let out a strangled sound, somewhere between a whimper and a sob. “It was pathetic. Because it couldn’t fly.” 

Sam’s mind cleared instantly. His dumbass of a brother. Even if he had been talking about the bird, he should’ve known Cas would take it to heart as well. The tall man leaned forward, eyes solemn. “Cas, I’m so sorry,” he murmured. 

Cas said nothing more, dropped his gaze until Sam set a hand on top of his. “I know Dean can be a huge ass, but I’ll tell you one thing. He would never say that about you. He needs you, we need you, Cas. You’re not useless.” 

Cas retreated into himself, withdrawing his hand from Sam’s and clasping them together in front of him. The bird let out another chirp in its sleep. 

“And I think it’s great, what you’re doing. To help him. The bird, I mean. Not many people would waste time to help anything other than themselves,” Sam continued on. 

At Cas’s angers look, Sam regretted his choice of wording. “I didn’t mean waste time in that sense,” he quickly amended. “I only meant that most people would never be that caring or selfless. It takes a special being to be like that.” 

Cas dipped his head in agreement. “I want him to fly. All birds that fall from their nests never survive.” There was a heavy, distinct grief in his voice that hit Sam hard. His throat filled with cotton and his eyes felt suddenly wet. 

“He will fly, Cas. He will survive. Because he has people who love and care for him, and will stop at nothing to help,” Sam finally told him. 

Cas glanced at him, doubtful. 

“Sam’s right.” 

Both jumped at the sound of Dean’s voice as he came out, a towel wrapped around his waist and another in his hands, rubbing it along his hairline. “W-what?” Sam wasn’t sure if he’d heard right.

“I’m not saying it again,” Dean said plainly before continuing. “Seriously though, Cas, we won’t stop until that little guy can spread his wings.” 

The two stared for a long moment, savior and saved, Righteous Man and Angel of the Lord. It was yet another moment that Sam felt he was intruding on. 

Finally, the spell was broken as Dean spoke up again. “We won’t stop until you spread your wings.”


	2. Day Two - “Whisper”

Prompt a Day #2

While Sam was usually the earliest to rise, even with diminished grace Castiel was wide awake and watching over Gabriel. 

It seemed the bird had become Cas’s new Dean, as it didn’t complain when the angel watched it sleep. Sam knew Dean wouldn’t be up for another few hours, and knew now would be the best time for getting answers out of Cas. 

Somehow, it felt like he was manipulating the man, though. Maybe he should start on small talk instead. 

“Hello, Sam,” Cas greeted before Sam could decide. “Did you sleep?” 

“Yeah, I did. Did you?” Sam wondered. He knew it was a stupid question. Still, he dreaded the answer. 

“No. I don’t feel that need yet,” answered Cas smoothly. “Thank you for your concern.” 

Sam narrowed his gaze at the odd wording but dismissed it. “Does something seem... off about Dean to you?” 

He broached the subject the way he knew Cas would respond, directly. Cas straightened and turned to the younger Winchester. “In what way?” 

Sam let out a sigh and lifted his shoulder in a half-hearted shrug. “I don’t know, man. It seems like ever since we got you back from Purgatory...” he trailed off awkwardly. “Never mind. It’s nothing.” 

At that, Cas seemed to respond abruptly. “You want answers. About what happened.” They were statements, not questions. Sam knew that, but he nodded anyway. He felt like he was a lost little boy all over again, wondering when dad would be home or what Dean had eaten if he’d given Sam the cereal. 

Cas motioned Sam to sit at the table as he did the same, reaching out to gently touch the bird’s back. It cheeped faintly at him, and then stilled again to resume it’s slumber. “What would you like to know?” 

Sam wasn’t even sure where to start, honestly. He had so many questions, and not enough time to ask everything he hoped to. “I don’t know. I guess - everything.” 

Cas gave a grim sigh, his lips pulling into a tight line. “I’m afraid I can’t tell you all of it. I wasn’t there at first. With Dean, I mean. I was - elsewhere,” he began. Already, Sam was left with a feeling of being out of the loop. “I - I left him.” 

Sam couldn’t comprehend that. What did Cas mean, he left Dean? Was he forced to?

“I was - let’s say, occupied in other places. I had to be, for Dean’s sake and my own,” Cas went on when Sam asked nothing. “This forest... it was evil. I could feel it all around us as soon as we entered, and I was practically a beacon in such a dreary place. I didn’t want harm to befall your brother.” 

Your brother. Sam knew that Cas was suddenly disconnecting himself from the emotions of this story. He hardly ever referred to Dean as “your brother”, but here he was doing just that. “So you just left him to fend for himself?” 

Cas looked ashamed. “I - yes, I did. It is not a moment I’m proud of,” he admitted softly. He raised a hand to rub the back of a his neck, a nervous tic he’d picked up from Dean somewhere along the road. “Honestly, I was a coward.

“And I regret wasting the time -“ Cas cut himself off with a jolt, seeming to shake himself from something. 

Sam was immediately wide awake. “What? What’s wrong? What happened in there, Cas?” 

Cas cleared his throat. “As I said, I cannot tell you all of it. Dean didn’t find me until several months in. By then he’d found Benny to help. I had no weapons, no - no grace. I was nothing but a burden on them both,” the angel’s voice was weary. Sam wanted desperately to reach out and hug the poor guy, but Cas had never responded well to the physical affection he offered. And he also wanted to punch him, for keeping something that obviously weighed heavily on his mind inside.

“I felt helpless down there, Sam. Purgatory - it’s like nothing you can imagine. It’s dark and dismal, there’s a constant feeling of being watched, and the forest does nothing but whisper deceit to you,” Cas’s voice was rising in his explanation, and it frightened the hell out of Sam. 

“Cas, it’s ok. You’re safe now, you’re not there.” He was quick to comfort his friend before he fell over the edge. 

“After what occurred with Naomi - I deserved Purgatory. My only regret is Dean believing that he’d somehow managed to fail me,” Cas sighed heavily, running a finger over his mouth. “He thought he’d left me there, and truly, I’d pushed him away. It was I who failed him. I couldn’t bare to live in a world where my sacrilege under Naomi had caused him distress.” 

“That wasn’t you, Cas. You were being controlled,” Sam argued swiftly. Granted, Dean had used this exact same argument on Sam many times. 

“That doesn’t excuse my actions. I should’ve fought against it, like Dean would’ve. I should have done something, Sam.” Cas sounded absolutely defeated now. His voice was tired and no longer full of fight. 

“Did something happen while you were away from Dean?” Sam finally dared to ask. At Cas’s reaction, he had guessed right. 

Slowly, the angel nodded. “He didn’t tell you, but he prayed to me, every night. I heard every one, Sam. Every single one. And I wanted so badly to go to him, to -“ he cut himself off again, leaving Sam with a bad taste in his mouth. 

“You wanted to what, Cas? Help him? Get to him? It’s ok to say it,” Sam told him. 

“Conversation over,” interrupted Dean before Cas could even open his mouth to protest. Sam was on his feet in seconds, guilt already feeding into his brain. Why couldn’t he just leave the topic alone? He was worried for Cas, the repercussions he may face for telling Sam, but Dean’s eyes weren’t on either of them. 

In fact, he was on the phone. Until he pulled it away from his ear and flipped it shut. “Crowley. Pain in my ass,” he spoke to them now, not seeming to notice Sam’s awfully tense stance. “What’s got your panties in a twist, Sam? Have a wet dream?” His eyebrows raised in a suggestive way, but Cas clicked his tongue and Dean stopped. 

And actually blushed. Dean Winchester fucking blushed. He hid it with an over-dramatic cough. “I think I’m catching a bug,” he mumbled out moving past them both and to the kitchen. “How’s the bird?” he called over his shoulder. 

Sam didn’t miss the gentle curve of Cas’s smile at the question. “Currently sleeping. As I believed you would be doing for at least another hour,” said the angel. 

Dean stopped and glanced between the angel and his brother, eyes suspicious. “What, planning a coup? You guys trying to kill me in my sleep?” It was a joke but Cas frowned. 

“Of course not. How could you think that, Dean?” 

“Joke, Cas. Sarcasm,” Dean offered without hesitation. Sam couldn’t help but notice the ease with which they interacted now. It was different (good, of course, but strange in a way Sam wasn’t used to) and almost made Sam laugh out loud. 

“Oh,” Cas said this mostly to himself as he regarded the last few seconds of the conversation. He gave a nod and then another exclamation of understanding. “Dean.” 

He emerged from the kitchen again, eyes questioning. “What’s up?” 

“I believe it is time we tell Sam about what “went down” in Purgatory,” Cas replied, fingers creating air quotes at the phrase he never used. Sam gulped in a way he prayed wasn’t audible at Dean’s tightening jaw. 

“I told him everything,” he shot back, giving Cas a meaningful look that the angel would misinterpret. 

“So he knows about the prayers, then?” asked Cas in surprise, which led to Dean’s jaw dropping open in shock. At that, Castiel realized he’d made a mistake. “I’m sorry - that - it was another way of you saying no.” 

Sam felt like absolute shit for Cas at this point, the poor angel shrinking until he seemed even tinier in the room. “Yeah, Cas, it was another way of me saying no. But I guess now that it’s in the open, let’s all share what happened. 

“And afterwards we can paint each other’s nails and you can braid Sam’s hair into a bird nest for the stupid thing,” Dean growled through gritted teeth. Poor Cas gave Sam a helpless look, and Sam simply shook his head. 

“Dean, it’s fine. I’ve prayed to Cas before too, how is it any different than that,” Sam tried his best to keep his voice steady. 

Dean’s glare switched to his brother. “Because it is, Sam. It’s always different,” he snapped, taking one menacing step forward.

“Always? Why because it’s you praying?” Sam wondered. Dean’s fist clenched at his slip up, and Sam could see his patience wearing thin. He was treading on broken glass now, but Sam was determined to get to the truth. Even if it meant Dean exploding in anger. 

“No! That’s not what I meant! I meant because -“ Dean wrung his hands through his hair roughly, likely pulling out a few strands. 

“Because what, Dean? Because you’re the Righteous Man? Because I’m a freak?” Sam knew he would get punched, the blow was coming any second. 

Instead, Dean’s glare lost its muster and his hands fell at his sides. “Because I’m not good enough.” He said it in a agonized whisper, and it broke Sam’s heart to see Dean’s eyes well with tears. His brother didn’t cry. What the hell had broken him in Purgatory? 

“You are good, Dean. That’s why you’re the Righteous Man, you idiot,” Sam remarked. Dean rolled his eyes at him. 

“Right. I’m the guy who broke the first fucking seal. The guy who let his brother get taken over by Lucifer. The guy who couldn’t even fathom why Cas would -“ he stopped and clenched his fists again at his sides. “Doesn’t matter. You wanna know? Fine, read dad’s journal. I - they’re all in there. Or ask Cas. He heard all of him and that didn’t matter.” His voice broke, but he ignored it and stormed off to his room. 

The door slammed. 

*****

“Sorry, Cas. I shouldn’t have done that. I feel like a piece of shit,” Sam said after he’d finished eating breakfast and made him and Cas a cup of coffee. 

Castiel said nothing in return, staring down at the swirling blackness of his steaming mug. 

“You - uh - you don’t have to tell me. About the prayers.” 

Cas still stayed silent, and Sam sat there with his hand wrapped tightly around the cup. It was practically searing his hand, but he didn’t move it. 

“They were all the same,” Cas murmured at last. Sam could barely hear him, ears straining to catch the rumble of his voice. 

“Except one. They were all pleas of forgiveness, for whatever he had done to drive me away. All of them, Sam. Except one. It’s so vivid in my mind, I can’t escape it,” Cas’s voice was nothing but a whisper now, but somehow Sam heard every word. 

“What was it?” he asked innocently. 

Cas took in a shuddering breath, drew in a huge swig of coffee, steadying himself as he worked up the courage to share Dean’s secret. 

Sam waited patiently. Cas deserved that much. It seemed an eternity. 

“It was a plea. Like the others, but not of the same nature. Not for - not forgiveness.” Cas stopped again, steeling himself for Sam’s undoubtedly awful reaction. “It was a plea of a different kind, Sam. At first, I thought I was hearing things. Dean would never say something like that. Never.” 

Sam’s curiosity grew until he was basically leaning out of his seat, only the tip of his butt still seated. 

Cas fiddled with the tips of his fingers, unsure how to tell Sam the truth. The truth that Dean had declared a secret the same night he was reunited with the angel. “It was a plea for...” 

Sam didn’t understand. Cas was usually so unconcerned with sensitive topics. He had no chagrin. Until lately. Not until his grace started withering away. 

“Sexual gratification.” It was nothing more than a breath, barely a whisper.


	3. Day 3 - “Coming up Green”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Proper research was done for the right care of sparrows along with the deeper meaning of the color green  
> And yes, I’m introducing new mythology into SPN because why not   
> Many birds can become depressed for many reason, and can experience mood swings, aggression, self-mutilation, destruction, and loss of appetite   
> In this fic, I’m basically comparing angels to birds

Prompt a Day #3

Now Sam understood what Dean meant when he’d said he wasn’t good enough. He didn’t mean he wasn’t good enough to pray. He meant he wasn’t good enough for an angel. 

Not in the way he’d wanted. And when Cas didn’t appear, of course Dean took it personal. No wonder they were both suddenly tense when it came to anything close to a sexual conversation. 

Sam rapped his knuckles against Dean’s shut door, hoping he would answer. Instead, he got a gruff “No”, and simply stayed put outside his brother’s bedroom. He was about to knock again when the door flew open, and Dean’s fist was in Sam’s jaw. 

His head snapped to the side and he fell back in shock, a surprised noise leaving his mouth as stars danced across his vision. Dean glared at him on the floor before withdrawing back into the room and slamming his door once again. Sam grimaced and reached up to finger his sore jaw, wincing at the flame of angry skin. 

He should’ve expected that. 

“Sam?” 

Sam turned to see Cas at the end of the hallway, worry on his face. “Oh, hey, Cas,” Sam muttered. 

Castiel walked forward to him and helped him up, face scrunched up into his usual confused expression. His eyes moved to Dean’s door, and knowing dawned on his face. 

“I guess I should’ve known that was coming eventually,” Sam tried to laugh it off, but cut himself short instead. 

Cas gave a small sigh. “Perhaps I should speak with him.” 

“No offense, but I don’t think he’s accepting visitors,” joked Sam. He gently rubbed at his jaw and moved away to grab ice from the kitchen. Cas stood in front of the eldest Winchester’s bedroom, considering the best way to confront him. 

He couldn’t think of one. 

Still, he raised his fist and knocked. “Dean, it’s me.” And then waited. For what seemed like ages. The door remained firmly shut. He could faintly hear Sam speaking to Gabriel in the main room. 

Cas knocked again. 

And again. 

And again. 

“Go away, dammit, Cas,” Dean finally snapped as he threw the door open and stared at the angel. Cas lowered his closed fist to his side and returned Dean’s angered gaze with his own calm one. 

“You punched your brother,” Cas pointed out. 

Cue Dean’s eye roll. “Yeah, he deserved it for being an ass,” he argued. “What do you want?” 

Cas felt his confidence deflate suddenly; without the comforting weight of his wings to wrap around his anxious form. It caught him off guard once again, and Dean seemed to notice (of course he did, Cas knew the Winchester seemed to notice everything he did). 

“Dude, spit it out.” It was Dean’s way of saying he wanted to hear what Cas had to say. His way of saying he cared about his words. 

“Sam did not have an adverse reaction to the news,” Cas finally managed to say. It was quiet, and he didn’t look at Dean as he said it. 

“What? English, Cas,” Dean reprimanded. Which meant Cas had used a word or words he didn’t understand. Not that he’d every admit that.

“Sam was not angry. With the news of your other prayer. He wasn’t upset, either.” 

Dean stared at the angel a while longer before moving to lean against the doorframe. His arms crossed over his chest and his shoulders went tense. “What’s your point?” 

Castiel seemed nervous, suddenly. Dean recognized the timid way he looked up as worry, and he almost felt bad for subjecting the guy to all of this. Almost. “Isn’t that why you didn’t want to tell him? You were afraid he would-“ 

“Wasn’t afraid of anything,” remarked Dean coldly before he could continue. It was a lie, and both of them knew it. Still, neither said anything against it. “I didn’t wanna tell him because it’s personal. And nothing even fucking happened, so-“ the hunter stopped before he said more. He was not in the mood to sort through his words right now, not with Cas scrutinizing every one he said. 

“I see.” It was obvious by his tone that Cas did, in fact, not “see” Dean’s point. Dean’s jaw clenched, so fleeting you would have missed it (but of course Cas didn’t, he never did. He always saw the slight pop in his jaw when he was angry or uncomfortable), and his purposely casual pose was faltering. 

“Don’t you have something to do other than stand here like a lost dog?” It was a jab, and Dean knew it, but at this point he didn’t care. He’d said far worse to the angel before (not that it made him feel any better about seeing Cas’s face fall from its usual stoicism). 

“Yes, of course. Gabriel should be waking soon for food. I - my apologies,” spoke Cas, his voice unfazed. Dean could hear the defeat, the heavy frustration directed toward him in the subtle clench of Cas’s fists in his trench coat pockets (not that Dean was looking). Dean just watched him leave before retreating from his room to find Kevin. 

The boy had been a huge help in the angel tablet, and he’d translated the entire thing to help the boys shut the gates of Hell. If he hadn’t told Dean about the after effects - he didn’t want to think about that. 

Kevin was fast asleep in the bunker basement, snoring away with his chin propped against his chest. Dean didn’t want to wake him, he knew the kid had been up for days on end while translating the tablet, but he had questions. 

*****

“Show me how to feed Gabriel so I can do it in case you’re gone somewhere,” suggested Sam when he heard Cas arrive back. He clutched a spare bag of frozen peas to his flowering bruise, ignoring the pain.

“Where would I be going?” 

Sam grinned and let out a chuckle. “I dunno, grocery shopping. I didn’t mean leaving for Tokyo or something.” 

Cas sat beside the Winchester and studied him for a moment. “I suppose it would be a good idea. You do know how baby birds normally eat, right?” 

Sam grimaced slightly but nodded. “Yeah, that’s the part I’m not sure how to recreate.” 

Cas couldn’t hide the soft laugh. “I could see where that would be an issue,” he said. “It’s rather easy. Though, it is different with every bird. This one is a sparrow, so it will require a high-protein diet. I got him canned kitten food, it’s much closer to their natural diet. And although they eat bugs in the wild, he is much to young to have any yet. And never feed him worms, they are toxic to sparrows. 

“And he will tell you when he is full. Jut keep offering him tweezers of food until he stops taking it. And don’t speak to him or handle him too often, it would be too hard to release him when he’s ready. And no water. He could drown.” 

Sam was astonished at the all the information Cas had locked inside his mind. Granted, he had lived for millennium, but to see it firsthand always made him realize how old Cas was. And it never ceased to make him feel utterly insignificant in the world.

“And always clean his beak with a soft rag when he’s finished, or he could get infections. Be sure to always wash your hands after you handle him too,” Cas didn’t seem to be stopping anytime soon, and Sam was growing overwhelmed with all the information. 

“Ok, I think I got it. Tell me more later, after I can process all that,” he quickly cut in. Cas nodded and slid Sam a can he had already opened, along with the tweezers. Gabriel was already ready, mouth gaping and tiny chirps coming from him. 

And Sam fed him until he wouldn’t accept anymore food. “How often do we feed him?” He wiped the bird’s beak and then stood to wash his hands. Cas followed close behind him.

“With as young as he is, I’d say every half hour. But he will let us know if he’s hungry before that time.” 

Sam couldn’t help but smile at the angel. Something so old and wise caring for a helpless animal as if his own life depended on it. But Sam knew why, and that quickly made his smile vanish. Cas was the bird in his mind. He was useless, not knowledgeable in the ways of humans or their needs and wants. And he could no longer fly. To Cas, this bird was him. 

*****

“Ok, what? What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Dean asked bitterly. 

Kevin looked at him for a long moment and finally let out an exasperated sigh. “Exactly what it sounds like, Dean.“ 

Dean grumbled something under his breath, leaning back in the chair he’d pulled up to Kevin’s side. “Well, it doesn’t make sense. What does “coming up green” even mean?” 

Kevin leaned forward to read the tablet, one finger tracing the Enochian as he went. “Green is the color of renewal, growth, and is the color of the Heart Chakra, which bridges the gap between the spiritual and physical worlds.” 

“Thanks, Einstein, that didn’t help,” Dean muttered as he absently crossed his arms. His eyes scoured holes into the back of Kevin’s neck as if that would help his cause.

“Coming up green,” Kevin added as if he hadn’t heard. “Refers to the process of an angel losing their wings, grace, or both.” 

Dean perked up at this new information, intrigued. “Ok, keep reading about that.” 

Kevin stopped for a moment and looked over his shoulder at Dean. “You know I was in Advanced Placement, right?” 

Dean simply shrugged off the words and motioned to the tablet. Despite his frustration, Kevin returned to the words

“Both the wings and grace of an angel, its essence, is directly connected to the Heart Chakra. When disconnected, it can lead to coming up green.” Kevin paused and suddenly frowned. “Uh oh.” 

“Uh oh? What, uh oh? What’s uh oh?” Dean asked frantically, sensing the dread in the boy’s voice. He dropped the legs of his chair back to the ground and leaned forward to look over Kevin’s shoulder, even though he wouldn’t be able to follow along.

“Uhm - well, apparently angels who go through this green thing can literally die of a broken heart,” Kevin said. “They can survive without one or the other, but not without both. Not for long, at least.” 

Dean felt a heavy weight settle adamantly in the pit of his stomach, his heart skipping a beat as his breath hitched. “Fuck. How long?” His palms were suddenly sweaty where they rested in the tabletop.

“The longest an angel went without its wings or grace was 27,” Kevin told him sadly. 

“What? Months, weeks?” asked Dean in a rush. 

Kevin shook his head. “No. 27 days,” he answered. Dean’s heart plummeted to the ground. Cas was coming up green.


	4. Day Four - “A Hand to Hold”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning due to minor description of self-mutilation

Prompt a Day #4

In Sam’s mind, Dean seemed unusually moody and lethargic the next morning. When he asked Cas, the angel just gave a shrug and nothing more. It seemed none of them wanted to comment on the odd placement of Kevin suddenly emerged from the basement either. 

“Hey, guys. When did we get a bird?” asked the boy once he stopped and noticed the tiny thing in its shoebox nest. Cas was currently feeding him. 

“Day we got back,” Sam said. “Cas saved him,” he added, which made Cas duck his head sheepishly, though he brushed it off as closing the food. Kevin stepped closer and narrowed his eyes. 

“Sparrow, right? It’s hard to tell when they don’t have many feathers. Not even a fledgling yet, huh?” 

Cas gave him a proud nod. “Yes, it is indeed a sparrow.” Dean hadn’t said a word to anyone, even though he was perched on the other side of the table from all of them. Kevin gave him a meaningful look that no one missed. 

“I found some interesting stuff in the angel tablet yesterday,” he finally remarked when it seemed Dean would say nothing. “Have you ever heard of an angel coming up green?” 

Sam furrowed his brow in confusion, but Castiel stiffened on the spot, his hand stilled in its pursuit to clean Gabriel’s beak. “What’s that mean, Kevin?” Sam dared to ask. 

Kevin glanced pointedly at Cas and sighed. 

“It’s not of import,” Cas responded evenly, not letting anyone else get another word in. “It’s a myth. Untrue legend.” 

Sam looked surprised. “Cas, how can it be untrue if it’s in the angel tablet?” he asked. 

Cas clenched his fist on the table and frowned. He said nothing more. 

“Fuck you, Cas. Why didn’t you tell us that was a possibility?” Dean at last spoke, voice hard and full of emotions he didn’t mean for anyone to hear. 

“What does it mean? Is it bad?” Sam cut in, craving an explanation (he didn’t miss the crack in Dean’s voice or the wobble in his words, either).

“It’s the process of an angel losing both its wings and grace. Its essence,” Cas explained shortly. 

Dean grit his teeth together, trying to steel himself. “Yeah, a process that could kill you, dammit. Angels can’t survive without at least one of those things, can they, Cas?” 

Sam looked to Cas in worry, eyes wide. “Is that true, Cas? You could die?” 

“Not could, Sam. He will,” Dean argued in an instant, glaring at the angel as he absently wrung his hands together. Sam watched Cas.

“Yes, I will die. But not soon,” Cas finally told them. “I still have small remnants of my grace, but it’s dwindling. It will buy us time to... do something,” he added. 

Dean felt a huge wave of relief flood him, almost bringing unwanted tears to his eyes (why the hell was he about to cry anyway? He’d lost Cas before). 

“How long? Cas, how long do you have?” Sam wondered then, asking the question no one else wanted to. 

Cas let out a gentle sigh. “I’m not sure. My grace - it’s leaving faster than I thought it could. The longest an angel has gone without is 26 days.” 

“27, actually,” Kevin corrected without hesitation. “It was 27.” 

Cas looked up at him and shook his head. “The angel in question only survived about two hours on the twenty seventh day.” 

“How the hell do you know that?” Dean suddenly questioned. 

Cas stilled once more. “I was there.” The revelation left both Sam and Dean winded. Cas had seen angels die before, some at his own hand, but to sit with one that had lost its essence. “I was a hand to hold as he passed. It was awful.” 

“Is it painful?” It was Kevin to ask this, and Dean shot him a malicious glare. 

“At certain parts, yes, it can be extremely painful. Other times, it isn’t at all,” replied Cas honestly. He seemed tired and defeated, and Dean wished he could wipe away the dark bags under his eyes. 

“Have you been sleeping?” Dean asked him. He hoped the answer was no, but at the fleeting gaze he received it was far from. 

“I’ve been trying to access my grace to resist the urge, but last night was the first time I slept. It was odd,” Cas admitted. The three men looked the angel over, noting the exhaustion settling deep into the lines of his shoulders (and Dean could see the subtle glaze over his eyes that proved his sleep state had been long and deep). 

They were losing him. 

*****

Cas stared idly at the wall, chin in hand as he looked at nothing. He was tense, but not in the usual way. Not from holding up his immense wings or striving to use as little grace as possible. 

No, this was much worse and different. He was growing restless, leg jiggling up and down in his boredom, slowly blinking away the last traces of his sleep. Sam, Dean, and Kevin had all disappeared into the basement of the bunker, leaving Cas to dwell on his awful situation. He hadn’t wanted to go with them, there was no solution to what he was going through, short of finding his grace. Getting back his wings was out of the question. 

Without the grace to conceal them, he’d be forced to wear them openly in the physical plane, free for anyone to see. Not only was that dangerous to any angel, it was also uncomfortable for them. The wings weren’t meant to be supported by the mortal body of their vessels, so keeping them hidden using grace solved that problem. 

Without the grace, it would be painful. His wings weren’t exactly gigantic, but the outermost flight feathers would drag on the floor, collecting dust and soiling his own pride. Not to mention it would ruin his vessel. Jimmy Novak wasn’t exactly the strongest man he could think of. 

A hand reached up and carded through his hair, roughly pulling at the hairs. He chastised himself with a click of his tongue and dropped his hand to his lap, ignoring the fact that there were strands of his hair within the palm. 

At the annoyance flaring inside him, Castiel realized his grace was practically nonexistent. He shouldn’t be feeling so powerfully, not over something so small. No, this reaction was caused by the loss of his essence. He was going to die. 

At the thought, Cas’s hand returned to his hair and rifled through the locks. 

*****

“Cas? Where’d you go?” called Sam as he followed Dean back to the bunker’s main room. The angel was nowhere to be seen, and Gabriel’s beak was yawning open, begging for food. “I’ll feed him, you find Cas.” 

Dean rolled his eyes at the order, but didn’t complain. The first place he looked was his own room, specifically the chair he’d set up in the corner for no reason. It wasn’t in case he prayed and Cas wanted a place to sit (except it was, and he’d put it there the moment he returned from Purgatory). 

Cas wasn’t there, so he tried Sam’s room next. Still nothing. 

It wasn’t until he passed the closed bathroom door and heard a hiss of pain that he found Cas. He knocked, sending off a series of startled sounds and clattering objects. “Cas, you ok in there, man?” 

“I - uhm - yes, sorry. I am just - it’s fine,” Cas stuttered back through the door. He had yet to open it. 

“You gonna open the door, or do I need to kick it down?” 

“No!” Cas’s voice filled with terror. Dean’s eyes widened a bit at the outburst. “No, it’s fine. I’m almost done,” the angel finally said more calmly. 

Dean was about to open the door himself when it was thrown open and Cas hurried past him. Still, Dean latched onto his arm to stop him in his tracks (because of course he noticed the loose strands of hair caught on the trench coat). 

“What were you doing?” 

Castiel wouldn’t meet his gaze, staring roughly at the ground as if it would swallow him whole and take him away from this confrontation. 

“Cas?” 

He pulled away from Dean’s hand and grimaced. “It’s nothing, Dean.” 

“Don’t say it’s nothing, Cas. You’re dying, for God’s sake. That’s not nothing.” Dean practically growled the words at him in anger, eyes ablaze with fury at the words. 

Cas met his eyes at the tone, and Dean saw the angry red marks at his forehead, tearing through his scalp. Broken strands of hair floated away from his head to the floor, while others stuck stubbornly to his coat. 

“Were you... Cas? What is this?” Dean’s voice went soft suddenly, orchard green eyes flooding with sorrow as he gave a frown. 

Cas made a frustrated sound in the back of his throat. “I can’t help it. It - it’s instinct, Dean. It’s ingrained into every angel, and I can’t stop it,” he spit out with rage. 

Dean stared helplessly on as his heart heaved sadly. “But, how can you not stop it? Doesn’t it hurt to pull your hair out like that?” He wished deeply he could help Cas (he knew the pain involved in pulling hairs, and the few times he had were done in intense anger). 

Cas balled his hands into fists and looked away, ashamed. “Of course it hurts,” he muttered. 

Dean crossed his arms, effectively closing himself off from the other man standing in front of him. “Isn’t that - isn’t self mutilation a - a bird thing, though? When they pull out feathers and stuff?” 

Cas looked up in surprise at the fact Dean knew this. Of course he knew he was smart (many times smarter than he ever let on), but it was still a shock. “Where do you think the idea for birds came from? They’re modeled after angels, even their mannerisms.” 

He couldn’t hide the fear and guilt in his voice, having been caught in the act wasn’t something he’d expected. Not from Dean, at least. Sam, possibly; Kevin was unlikely.  
But Dean? It filled his body with a sense of dread at the knowledge his charge now possessed. 

“Does this have to do with the green thing? Because of losing your grace?” asked Dean next, showing a remarkable sense of inferencing skills. 

“No, it has nothing to do with the grace. It’s because of my - losing them,” Cas spoke. He couldn’t bare to say the word, that would make it all too real. 

“Dean, did you find-?” Sam came around the corner and froze when he saw the state Cas was in. His eyes quickly flew to Dean, blame held in them until realization dawned. Sam came forward without another word and brought Cas into a hug. 

Dean raised an eyebrow, unsure of why the gesture was needed. Sure, Cas was upset because he lost his wings, but Dean failed to see the impact or importance. 

“We’re gonna get you through this, Cas. It’s ok to be depressed about this, but it’s not ok to punish yourself for it,” Sam pulled away and looked down at the man. 

Cas’s eyes were full of unshed and foreign tears. Dean mentally smacked himself for being unable to see it like his brother had. Self mutilation was a sign of depression in birds (he wasn’t an idiot, despite what he made others believe), and of course any bird would be depressed at losing its ability to fly. That’s what made Cas who he was, and now he wasn’t an angel anymore. He was a man with nothing. He was a man who needed a hand to hold.


	5. Day Five - “Hello Morning”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late upload, I had to work late. Enjoy!

Prompt a Day #5

“Rise and shine, sleeping beauties,” Dean called loudly through the hallways, for once being the first to rise. After the revelations of last night, Dean had a plan to at least help Cas begin his recovery. 

Sam was out of his room in an instant, still in his boxers and a sleep shirt, gun in hand. “What the hell? It’s five in the morning,” he said. Cas was much slower to rise, his door opening in a slow creak as he emerged from the room he’d picked (right beside Sam’s room, but across from Dean’s) and glared at the older brother. 

“It’s breakfast time, you two. Come on! Kevin and I made a lot of stuff,” Dean declared happily, clapping his hands together in excitement. Sam retreated to change while Cas simply said nothing and followed Dean to the kitchen, his trench coat billowing slightly behind him. 

“It is much too early for this, Dean. I would have liked many more hours of sleep,” Cas mumbled out through a yawn. 

“Hush, it’s never too early for great food. Plus, we can all watch the sunrise without having to feed Gabriel, since he’ll still be sleeping,” Dean argued. 

“It’s a sunrise, Dean. What’s so special about that? Human eyes can’t even comprehend the beauty of it, not like angels,” Cas added as if Dean hadn’t said a word. 

Dean couldn’t help but scoff. “Well, for us puny humans, sunrises and sunsets are the best thing since sliced bread.” 

The look Cas gave him could’ve dropped him dead in his tracks, if looks could kill. He didn’t say anymore against Dean’s absurd waking schedule, but the hunter could see him complaining in his head (obviously, Cas was not a morning person. Dean suspected Jimmy likely wasn’t one either). Sam’s footsteps grew closer as he caught up, socked this time so his feet wouldn’t chill on the tile. 

“What’s for breakfast? Pancakes?” 

Dean turned to look over his shoulder as he paused outside the closed kitchen door. “Oh, everything. More than that. And while we eat delicious food we can watch the sunrise over the bunker.” 

“What happened to no chick flick moments?” Sam asked him with a laugh. 

“Hey, I love chick flicks,” spoke Dean without hesitation. Sam only shook his head and chuckled at his brother. “Alright, you two, breakfast is served.” 

The door opened as if on cue and Kevin welcomed them all in with a smile. Dean hadn’t been kidding about everything. Pancakes, French toast, eggs (scrambled, sunny side up, over easy), butter biscuits (smothered in gravy of course), waffles, sausages, bacon (a huge mound actually, which Dean was already digging into), ham, doughnuts, and brownies, along with orange juice (Cas noticed the destroyed oranges they had used to make it) and coffee. 

“Buffet style breakfast, courtesy of me and Kevin,” grinned Dean as he set his already full plate down and motioned Cas and Sam to dig in. 

“I didn’t help with anything,” Kevin refuted in confusion. Dean dropped his head (Cas saw the tips of his ears go red) and brushed off his embarrassment by pouring himself a cup of coffee. 

“Jesus, how early were you up to make all this?” Sam wondered in exasperation, staring at his brother. “Did you even sleep?” he went on before Dean could answer (the answer was no, Cas knew, because the tired set of his shoulders was heavier than usual). 

“Kevin, did you get the chairs set up outside?” Dean ignored his brother and turned to the prophet. At Kevin’s nod, he motioned for the others to follow. Cas, much like Dean, had piled his plate full of food while Sam got small servings of everything so he could eat it all. Kevin just had a few pancakes and a cup of orange juice (he’d never developed the taste for coffee, even after forcing himself to consume it nonstop to decode the tablet). 

“Prime viewing, right here,” Kevin said, likely reciting something dean himself had said to him when he’d made the plan. He had set up four lawn chairs outside, facing out across the fields to watch the sky fill with pastels. 

And man, was it gorgeous. Even Cas (who could see ultraviolet light and radio waves and all manners of other colors human eyes couldn’t perceive) was enthralled. He barely ate when the dark night suddenly came alive with violets, pinks, peaches, and maroons. “Hello, morning,” Sam suddenly shouted, sending Kevin into a fit of laughter.

When the sun had risen enough to turn the sky pure blue, they went back inside. “That was very different than how I saw it as an angel,” Cas remarked. There was no bitterness or sadness in his voice (though Dean picked up on the distant way he said the words). “It was much purer. I can see now why humans appreciate such mundane things.” 

Kevin laughed at his choice of words. “Funny, an angel saying watching the sunrise is mundane. You guys sat up in Heaven doing nothing for centuries until just a few years ago, talk about mundane.” 

Cas gave a smile. “Yes, I suppose you do have a point, Kevin. Though, we did have important jobs in Heaven. Mostly.” 

“Mostly?” Dean managed to get out through a laugh, looking to the angel for an explanation. 

Cas looked suddenly sheepish. “When I was first brought into existence I would receive cleaning duty.” 

“Heaven has cleaning duty? You were like a heavenly janitor,” Dean told him. “A holy janitor. A - a holinitor?” He thought over it more. “I got nothing.” 

“You’re an idiot, Dean,” Sam chided evenly, glaring at the back of his brother’s head. 

“Hey, watch yourself, Sammy. We’d hate for that hair of yours to suddenly get cut, wouldn’t we?” Dean held up his hands and cut at the hair as if they were shears, grinning at Sam’s disgusted noise. 

“I need to feed Gabriel,” Cas suddenly exclaimed, hurrying ahead of them after absently thrusting his plate and mug in Dean’s general direction. The hunter barely managed to snatch the coffee cup as it tumbled through the air. He smiled at Cas’s retreating back and shook his head in disbelief. Kevin ran to catch up with him, wanting to see how it was done. 

“So,” Sam began. He figured it would be a good chance to talk to his brother about everything going on. Dean had others ideas, because he stayed silent. “Cas told me about the prayer.” 

“Good for you,” Dean shot back, already annoyed at his brother’s incessant tendency to poke into his mind. He had never wanted Sam to know about that, about any of it, which is why he hadn’t told him in the first place. Now, it was out in the open and his brother knew Dean had asked an angel to sin for his own gratification. How low could you get?

“Dude, seriously? You gotta talk about it eventually, you know that.” 

“No, actually, I don’t. Just because you wanna know all the details of my personal life doesn’t mean I have to fucking tell you anything,” snapped Dean. He was already sick of this entire conversation. 

Sam glowered at him. “If you wanna get over it you’re gonna have to talk to someone,” he argued. 

“I’m past it, Sam. Problem solved.” 

“Oh, sure, just like that? Because you’ve always resolved all of the problems you’ve had before?” Sam retorted. 

Dean clenched his fist around the coffee mug, his jaw tense. “Why does it even matter? It was stupid, why talk about something that I didn’t even mean?” 

At that, Sam lost his patience. “If you didn’t mean it, then why the fuck did you even ask? And just because Cas didn’t answer you doesn’t mean anything. You’re an idiot if you think otherwise.” 

Dean laughed bitterly, rolling his eyes. Good Lord, was he ready to clock his brother. “You think I don’t know why he didn’t show up, Sam? You think I don’t know why nothing happened?” 

“Don’t fucking say it, Dean.” 

“No, fuck you, Sam. It’s because I’m a piece of shit and Cas knows that. I don’t know why I’m the Righteous Man, even to this day. All I do is take from everyone and hurt the people I love! I’m nothing, and I’m worth even less than that! I would’ve given anything to have-“ he cut himself off, not willing to say more. The anger bubbling over the edges eased a bit as shame took over. 

“Given anything to what, Dean? To have had Cas show up?” 

“I didn’t say that!” Dean suddenly shouted in rage. 

Sam raised his hands in capitulation, heart hammering in his chest. “It’s not a big deal, man. I don’t give a shit it you’re into Cas.” 

“I’m not gay,” Dean growled. 

“And Cas isn’t a dude,” Sam shot back without a second of hesitation. 

“What the fuck are you trying to say, Sam? That it would’ve been alright if Cas had - forget it. I can’t fucking talk to you,” muttered Dean harshly, turning to leave. 

“All I’m saying is I don’t care. Just because he’s an angel doesn’t mean you don’t deserve to be happy.” Sam braced himself for another outburst. Dean just remained frozen on the spot and wouldn’t look at him, his jaw working as if he were chewing gum. “And you can talk to me. About anything. I’m your brother, dude.” 

With everything said, Dean walked away. He didn’t once look back to see if Sam was following him (he wasn’t). 

*****

Dean found more of Cas’s hairs in the bathroom sink, stuck to the sides as if he’d tried to wash them down and rushed the job. He was unsure how to react to this, other than to find Cas and see if he needed someone to talk to. Not that Dean would be much help, he had always been awful at talking about anything involving emotions (especially when it came to Cas, for some reason). 

But Cas could at least complain to someone, get out the feelings in a healthier way that Dean was used to (which almost always meant drinking himself into oblivion). 

And when Dean knocked on Cas’s bedroom door, it opened a crack, as if Cas had been all but waiting on the other side for someone. “Hello, Dean.” 

The customary greeting tugged at Dean’s heart in a way he didn’t think possible, but he shoved the feeling down. “Are you - uh - you doing alright? I kinda - the hairs - in the - the sink.” 

It was an awkward mess of words, none of them creating the sentence Dean had wanted, but it was the best he could do. Apparently it was all Cas needed, as he opened his door wider and let Dean inside. 

The angry marks at Cas’s forehead were bright (he’d obviously just finished), and his hands fidgeted nervously where the rested in his lap. His trench coat was pulled right around him and tied off, which was unusual for him. 

“Did you -“ Dean stopped to swallow hard and absently wiped his sweaty palms against his jeans. “Did you do something other than pull your hair?” He didn’t want to know the answer - wanted to pretend everything was fine and Cas wasn’t dying and wasn’t doing anything that harmed him. But life wasn’t fair, and of course Cas gave a single, cautious nod. So, Dean held out his hand and said, “Show me.” 

Cas hesitated for a long moment, doubt in his eyes. “It was an accident,” he murmured softly before offering his left arm to Dean’s outstretched hand. 

Raw skin met his gaze when he pulled the sleeve of the trench coat up. The burn was fresh, and angry. Dean held back the sharp words he wished to say (rage would not help anyone), and inhaled deeply to still his staccato beating heart. “How did you accidentally do this?” 

Cas’s cheeks went bright red, and Dean swore he saw tears fill those ocean-blue eyes. “I - my grace used to be able to heal wounds as soon as I received them. I thought - maybe I still had some. I’m sorry.” 

He sounded absolutely crestfallen, making Dean want to yell at him. “Just - fuck - let wrap it.” 

Cas pulled away and shook his head. “It’s fine. It doesn’t hurt,” he said. 

“Bull. I’ve had burns like that, they hurt like a bitch. And you gotta take care of it, or it’ll be worse,” Dean replied, attempting (without much success) to keep his voice steady. So much for Sam’s “Hello, morning.”


	6. Day Six - “Sunny Side Up”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the super short chapter today, but tomorrow’s chapter is super long because it’s actually half of this one too (I didn’t think it really fit with today’s prompt though, so I moved it)

Prompt a Day #6

Gabriel’s feathers were growing quickly, but he still refused to leave the nest to hop around outside. Even when Cas set him in the grass, he simply stayed in one spot and chirped stubbornly. Still, they kept trying, and still, he wouldn’t move. 

“Is that a bad sign?” Dean asked after they’d tried for the third time that day. He’d made Cas remove his trench coat until the burn healed, so the white wrap on his forearm was stark against his tanned skin. 

“No. It usually takes a few tries. I’m sure by tomorrow, he’ll be hopping all over the place,” Sam responded, having already looked up the answer on his phone. Even so, Cas seemed worried about the lack of progress with Gabriel as well. 

He was growing at a normal rate (according to Cas), but he seemed reluctant to gain his freedom. “Aren’t we supposed to throw him in the air to get him to fly?” wondered Dean, only half joking. 

“You’re just asking Cas to punch you, aren’t you, Dean?” Sam responded coolly, sending a bitch face Dean’s way. 

“I’m joking!” Dean exclaimed, throwing his hands up as if Sam were an idiot for not catching the sarcasm in his voice. 

“I wouldn’t punch Dean,” Cas seemed to have just heard what Sam said. It was such a delayed response that Sam gave a short laugh. 

Dean shot Sam a pointed look, crossing his arms over his chest as if in victory. “I don’t know about you two, but I’m ready for breakfast.” 

Cas turned to look at the hunter, squinting his eyes and tilting his head (and if Dean’s heart skipped a beat, he wouldn’t admit it). “It’s noon.” 

“Yeah, and? Breakfast for lunch, Cas, ever heard of it? I’ll make you eggs how you like.” Dean made his words unemotional, despite the fire he could feel creeping its way up the back of his neck. 

“Sunny-side up, for me!” Sam announced happily, slapping dean on the back. 

Dean glared at his brother. “I didn’t hear me offer you any eggs,” he said. 

“Jerk.” 

“Bitch.” 

They glared at each other a moment longer before Sam cracked a smile and Dean returned it (his eyes crinkled at the corners, which Cas knew meant it was sincere). “I am not making you fake eggs.” 

“Sunny-side up isn’t fake eggs, Dean! They’re good for you!” Sam retorted. 

“It’s half cooked, dude! That’s a fake egg! And all eggs are good for you!” Dean argued right back. “It’s the only healthy thing I eat, because it’s the only good one.” 

Sam punched Dean’s shoulder at that. “Healthy food is all good. You wouldn’t know, because you’ve never even given it a chance.” 

“Oh, sure, I love eating plants, Sammy. And you call me the strange one,” Dean chided, rubbing circles into his shoulder like Sam’s hit hurt. 

They went back and forth like this the entire way inside and toward the kitchen (with Cas behind them, smiling in amusement). Kevin had just emerged from the direction of the basement, dark circles under his eyes. “Guys! I found out more on Cas’s thing!” he exclaimed, the sleep suddenly gone from his body. 

The Winchester brothers stopped in their tracks and turned to him, Cas stepping up to Dean’s side. “What is it, Kev?” 

Kevin lifted up a yellow notepad with awful scrawl in every available space. “I know how to get them back!” 

“His grace?” asked Dean hopefully, eyes going wide. 

Kevin shook his head and came over to them. “No, his wings. The grace is with Metatron, we wouldn’t be able to find him in time. But, the wings are much easier.” 

“No,” Cas cut in abruptly. Everyone stopped in their excitement and looked at him. 

Dean frowned deeply (Christ, was that his heart that just made that shattering noise?). “Why the hell not?” 

“Wings on a vessel with no grace, think about it. What do you think keeps an angel’s wings from being visible to human eyes?” Cas asked them, visibly shaken by the news. 

Sam straightened. “Your grace. It’s done with grace, isn’t it, Cas? Without it - they’re visible?” 

Cas gave an affirmative nod. “Correct. Without my grace, I could not conceal them. It’s dangerous, to me, my vessel, and all of you. Not to mention extremely painful for my vessel.” 

“Painful?” Dean wondered. “Why? Just ‘cause you can see them? What’s the big deal?” 

Cas clicked his tongue and shook his head. “No, them being visible is just a - a side effect. The true problem of having wings and no grace is that the vessel is not made to support their weight. An angel’s grace lightens them considerably, and without it they’re heavy. Heavy enough to slow me down, and to harm my vessel.” 

Kevin looked down at his notes, frowning sadly. Even Dean’s ability to heighten the mood seemed absent. “You wouldn’t be able to fly with them, would you?” he suddenly asked, much to Sam and Kevin’s surprise. 

Cas finally sighed. “No. Not at all. They’d be a burden more than anything,” he admitted. It pained him to say, his wings were a part of who he was. 

“Why don’t the wings show up when we kill angels, then?” Sam wondered. 

“They do. As scorch marks in the earth. They are visible as burn marks, because when an angel dies, their wings are literally scorched,” explained Cas. Sam swallowed the taste of bile from his mouth, the horrible feeling of disgust (at himself) settling deep into his tongue. 

“But, this is a way to keep you alive, Cas!” Dean exclaimed suddenly, slamming his fist down on the table he was perched on. Cas jumped back at the noise, eyes wide (and he swore Dean’s eyes held tears). 

“Dean, calm down,” Sam snapped. “It’s painful for his vessel to take the weight of the wings.” 

“Yeah, well, him being alive is way fucking better than him being dead - pain or not!” Dean argued adamantly. 

“Dean’s right,” Kevin added. He shrunk back at the glare Sam gave him, and promptly shut his mouth. 

“Thank you, Kevin,” Dean told him with a smug smile at his brother. 

“It doesn’t matter! It’s Cas’s choice no matter what!” Sam retorted. Cas stepped away from the brothers. 

“No way! It’s our fault he’s in this mess in the first place, we’ve gotta fix this!” Dean shouted back, standing to his full height as he started toward Sam. 

“It’s not your job to fix everything, Dean!” Sam was losing his patience with his brother’s martyrdom. 

“The fuck it isn’t! No one else will!” Dean growled, clenching a fist at his side. 

A loud, angry chirp stopped them from going any further. Sam and Dean leaned away from each other to look at Gabriel, who was hopping around on the table. He was apparently in the argument as well, because he kept squawking as if his life depended on it. 

“I think you guys made Gabriel upset,” Kevin announced. The tension was released as Cas broke into a chuckle, followed by Kevin and Sam. 

Dean remained quiet, fury still boiling and seething below the surface of his skin. 

*****

“Alright. Scrambled eggs for Cas,” Dean announced as he scooped the eggs onto Cas’s plate. “Over easy for Kevin,” he added, handing the boy his plate. 

Kevin thanked him happily. 

Dean set his own plate down at the table. “Omelet for me,” he grinned, putting the perfectly golden omelet onto his plate. 

“And Sam’s fake eggs,” he finished as he practically slammed his brother’s plate down in front of him. 

“Seriously?” Sam asked in annoyance. “Dean, these aren’t sunny-side up!”


	7. Day Seven - “Beauty Is...”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Warning for mention of self mutilation*  
> Happy Fathers Day everyone! Enjoy the longer chapter

Prompt a Day #7

“It’s stupid, Cas,” Dean muttered unhappily. His arms were crossed as he leaned back against the wall of his room (Cas was sitting in the chair he’d put out for him, the one he refused to make a big deal out of even when Cas asked him about) and frowned at the former angel before straightening.

Cas let out another breath (he’d lost track of how many times he’d sighed after about the tenth one) and said nothing. This was the third time Dean had said the exact same thing. And Cas was just as annoyed about the subject as the hunter was. 

Currently, Dean was tending to a rather painful patch of raw skin on Cas’s forehead (he’d pulled at his hair until the skin started bleeding under the abuse). He gave a hiss of pain when Dean got a little too rough. 

None of them made any comment about the fact that Cas had bald spots from the assault he subjected his hair to. And no one bothered to say anything about the fresh burn marks he had on his arms every day either. Dean just wrapped them wordlessly (as if the feeling of his heart in his throat wasn’t bad enough. Maybe he had heartburn). 

“A way to save you, and you fucking say no,” Dean continued on his one-sided rant. “Like it doesn’t matter if you die, or some stupid shit.” He finished staunching the blood and threw away the paper towels he used. “Fucking ridiculous. Can’t believe I’ve gotta put up with your bullshit. Who the hell cares if you get a little pain? You’d be alive.” 

“It’s not about the pain,” Cas remarked. “Jimmy is not made for wings. The vessel would be destroyed if I had them. I’m sure that Kevin will find another way, he always does.” 

Dean’s jaw tightened but he said nothing more as he stood. Cas followed him wordlessly through the bunker and to the main room, finding Sam at the table feeding Gabriel. “Hey, guys.” 

“Hello, Sam,” greeted Cas. 

“Your head looks a lot better,” Sam pointed out, trying not to show his emotions (though he’d always been awful at hiding his feelings). 

Cas simply dipped his head in thanks while Dean glared at everything and nothing in particular. 

“What are the plans for today? Grand Canyon?” asked Sam, looking between the two. 

“We can’t reach the Grand Canyon in a day, Sam,” said Cas. He looked confused at the offer. 

“No, I know,” Sam replied. “I was mostly joking.” 

“Should we not be looking for a case?” questioned Cas, turning to look at Dean. “I happened to have found one.” 

“Absolutely not,” Dean snapped. Cas reared back as if he’d been punched, eyes full of hurt. “We need supplies, first off. So, we should go into town and restock.” 

Sam stood and nodded. “Dean’s right. We’re nearly out of salt, not to mention stuff for witch-killing bullets and we need to make more holy water, anyway.” 

Cas nodded his understanding as Dean turned away. “I’m gonna shower real quick then.” 

*****

“Cas, put it back! We don’t even need this stuff,” Dean ordered as Cas once again tried to put something in the cart. Sam couldn’t help but smile at the two. They fought like an old married couple (not that Sam wasn’t about to tell them that). 

“But it says it’s superior taste, Dean.” Cas held out the box of coffee grounds with a pleading look plastered on his face. 

With a frustrated noise, Dean snatched the box from his hand and tossed it into the bottom of the cart (no way was he letting Cas get anything else, though). At this rate, they’d go bankrupt from getting Cas coffee. 

“Thank you,” called Cas happily as he followed after Dean. Sam lagged behind quite a bit, giving the two a chance to bond (especially because Cas was currently resting at 12 days without either grace or wings, and was looking thinner and pale than ever). 

Cas let out a cough, which made Dean turn to him with a concerned gaze. “You ok, buddy?” 

Cas just gave a nod, but kept right on coughing. Sam gulped nervously as he noticed Dean’s hand twitching at his side (wanting to reach out to him, wanting and craving the contact of another life). 

And then he looked around, helpless, his eyes landing on Sam, who finally rushed forward to help. “Here, Cas, come sit down,” he helped the former angel to lean against one of the shelves. “Are you ok?” 

And Cas nodded still, even as he went right on coughing. The few people that were nearby were starting to stare, but none of them noticed (and the raw patch at his forehead didn’t show up much, but his bandages were obvious). 

Dean was in front of Cas now, as Sam asked if anyone nearby were a doctor. “Cas, look at me. Breathe, man, calm down. You’re gonna be alright,” he urged Cas, grabbing onto his wrist (only to anchor himself, not because his self control finally snapped, begging him to hold onto the man). 

Cas’s watering blue eyes met Dean’s, and the hunter’s heart broke at the terror in their depths. 

“It’s ok, Cas. Just keep - look at me, don’t worry about anything else right now,” continued Dean. Sam noticed his hands were shaking in fright, and the one at Cas’s wrist was turning his knuckles bone white. 

A woman finally hurried over, leaning Cas over (Dean had to back away or Cas would’ve been within range of his overflowing emotions). She patted his back once, and then rubbed circles into it. Dean stood by nervously, his thumb running anxiously along his knuckles (was that red mark at Cas’s wrist left by him?). 

Finally, Cas stopped and took a shuddering breath. Dean was back in an instant, hand on one of Cas’s shoulders. “Are you ok, Cas? Do you wanna sit down for a second?” 

Sam stepped up to the woman. “Thank you so much. We didn’t know what to do, and he didn’t really seem to be choking on anything.” 

She gave a gentle nod. “My husband had cancer, so I’ve had experience. I’m sorry. Losing someone is never easy.” 

Sam dropped his head and cleared his throat, running his palms along his jeans. 

“I’m sure his boyfriend is hurting more than he lets on,” she added with a smile. “He’s sweet to him.” 

Sam belatedly realized she was talking about his brother, and would’ve laughed if it hadn’t looked like exactly what she said. For all intents and purposes, Dean and Cas seemed to be dating. 

The hunter was helping Cas straighten up, his hand lingering a long time at the joint where his arm met his shoulder. 

“Uh - yeah. Yeah, he is,” Sam finally said, smiling softly. “Thank you, again, for your help. It means a lot to us.” 

The woman smiled and continued on her way, with only one glance back at them. Cas was nodding along to something Dean was saying (and if Dean suddenly seemed too close to Cas, he said nothing against it). 

*****

“Beauty Is Chocolate Covered Strawberries,” Dean read. Cas nodded and gave him a smile. “Really, Cas? You know we can make those ourselves for much cheaper,” he argued, grabbing the container from Cas’s hands to set it back down. 

“Yes, but, Dean,” Cas picked them right back up and held them out to him. “They’re gourmet,” he finished with another smile. “Please?” 

Sam had gone to wait in the Impala a few long minutes ago, leaving Dean to deal with Cas’s inability to have self control. “No, Cas. We don’t need them. Half the time they’re not even good.” 

“I couldn’t help but notice you two are considering the Beauty Is Strawberries,” a voice behind Dean made him jump and whirl around, making him glad Cas was holding the box. 

“We are not considering it,” Cas announced. “We are buying them.” 

“No, we aren’t,” Dean said back, reaching to grab the container. 

The man chuckled at the two. “You two are cute,” he told them. 

Dean stopped immediately and looked at the guy in shock. “We - uh - we aren’t together,” he managed to stutter out. 

The man glanced around and held one finger up to his lips. “It’s ok, you two. I know it’s a little taboo, but you’re free to love who you want.” 

Dean’s fist curled around nothing, and Cas stepped away from him. “Look, man. I’m not gay,” Dean snapped bitterly. 

The poor guy took a step back and raised his hands in mitigation. “I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t mean to assume. I just thought - well with the way you two melded. I’m awfully sorry.” And then he walked away. 

“Are we still allowed to get the strawberries?” Cas wondered innocently, holding them out to Dean (and, fuck, the guy had almost died in a grocery store, so of course he wasn’t going to refuse) who finally yanked them from his hands and tossed them in the cart too. 

“Thank you.” 

*****

“Chocolate covered strawberries, Dean? Who’s the lucky lady?” Sam wondered as he nudged his brother. 

“I’m not a lady,” Cas told him. Dean’s ears went beet red at the implications as Sam guffawed in the seat next to him. He started up the Impala and peeled away, already embarrassed enough. 

“Shut up, Sam,” Dean muttered. 

“Aw, poor big brother is all shy about getting Cas cute little strawberries,” Sam teased like his brother hadn’t said a word. Dean’s hands tightened around the steering wheel. 

“A man in the store thought we were a couple.” Of course Cas would think it appropriate to bring that up. Dean could feel the heat scorching his neck. 

“Oh, that’s rich,” Sam chortled, slapping his thigh with a hand. “Dean and Cas sitting in a tree!” He began singing the song, but Dean had had enough. 

“Shut the fuck up, Sam. I will murder your ass,” he finally ordered. 

Sam stopped his song and handed Cas the strawberries. No one said another word the whole way, and it was a long car ride. 

*****

“Here, Dean. Would you like to try one of the strawberries?” asked Cas as he held one out to the hunter. 

Dean looked up at him (ignoring the fact they were alone, because he hadn’t noticed that as soon as it had happened) and frowned. “Why?” 

Cas rolled his eyes in annoyance. “They’re gourmet. And you bought them for me.” 

“Fine,” Dean ground out through a locked jaw. 

He reached up to take it when Cas pulled it away. “May I do something? Just once?” He seemed hesitant to ask, which only made Dean worry. So of course he agreed to whatever Cas was wanting. 

The former angel sat down at the seat across from Dean. “Open your mouth.” 

Dean immediately saw where this was going, and considered refusing. He’d already agreed to doing what Cas wanted, would it be wrong to change his mind (not to mention the thought of Cas’s hands anywhere near him sent shivers down his spine. Maybe there was a draft)? 

So Dean did as he was told and opened his mouth. And, yes, Cas held the strawberry out to him and fed him. It was intimate in a way Dean wasn’t used to, it made his skin crawl as Cas watched to see his reaction, but was also oddly arousing in a way he didn’t think possible (after all, he wasn’t gay). 

Apparently, strawberries really are where beauty is.


	8. Day Eight - “Coffee|Tea”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, it’s extremely short. I didn’t have much for this chapter

Prompt a Day #8

Today marked 13 days Cas had gone without his wings or his grace. 

His hands shook whenever he tried to hold anything for too long, his hair was patchy (nearly gone in most places), and that cough that had nearly suffocated him yesterday was back with a vengeance. 

Sam busied himself with caring for the bird, leaving Dean to tend to Cas. He didn’t complain at all (in truth, it felt nice to care for someone). It was almost like Dean was meant to do this, meant to take care of someone. 

And of course Kevin was constantly reviewing the angel tablet, looking at it over and over again for anything he’d missed. He never found anything new, but that didn’t stop him from trying. 

Cas insisted he was fine, but his appetite was worsening with each passing day. The burns on his arms weren’t healing like they should, and Dean was convinced the man was burning them each fresh as soon as he went to the bathroom on his many “breaks”. The hunter was terrified for Cas. He wished he could do something (anything) to help the former angel, but his own strength was dissolving. 

It scared him to know he may lose his only friend. The one who had saved him from Hell all those years ago, the one who was always there for him. Just the thought of losing Cas nearly stopped his heart. 

He’d lost him before, when he allowed the Leviathans inside. When Lucifer had snapped his fingers and made him explode right in front of his eyes. That didn’t make it any easier. 

Because this time, Dean felt a kind of finality. Almost like this time would be permanent. It was something Dean hoped dearly he was wrong about. 

“You want some of that coffee we got yesterday?” Dean asked suddenly, the thought hitting him that of course he could do something like that. But Cas shook his head, leaving the hunter with a sour taste in his mouth. “You want any tea?” 

Again, Cas shook his head before breaking out into another coughing fit. Dean reached out and patted his back, just like he’d seen the woman do yesterday. It seemed to work well, and it helped Cas get his breath back fast. 

When he stopped coughing, Dean pulled away. “How’re you feeling?” he wondered.

Cas frowned. “Awful,” he admitted softly. He wished he could give a better answer, but it was the truth (and he was done with lying about this whole situation). 

Dean didn’t ask anything else after that, and both of them were too tired to really do much anyway. At least Gabriel was making good progress, already starting to go on short bursts of flight whenever Sam took him outside. And he sang happily, attracting other birds with his chirping. 

Cas hoped he would be well enough to see the bird off. He’d grown fond of him, even though he knew he would have to release Gabriel back into the wild. It was the right thing to do. Even Dean seemed sad to be missing some of the bird’s maturing steps (or maybe because Cas couldn’t fly and he deserved it more than the stupid bird did). 

“You wanna watch a movie?” Dean finally broke the silence, looking at the former angel. At Cas’s nod, he stood to grab one. “Now I gotta figure out what to educate you in. I’m thinking classics, you know? Star Wars?” 

While the hunter seemed to be talking to himself, Cas couldn’t help but nod at his question (and he wasn’t staring, no matter what anyone said). 

The day was long, and the movie seemed to last even longer. Of course, Cas was exhausted, and ended up asleep on the couch only halfway through. And if Dean let him rest his head on his thigh, he wouldn’t tell anyone.


	9. Day Nine - “It Was a Dream”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Longer chapter today to make up for yesterday   
> And sorry, but the Castiel whump begins in this chapter (warning for that obviously)

Prompt a Day #9 

The next morning, Cas was worse (it didn’t seem possible for that to happen, but his skin was nearly gray). He woke up from the couch coughing, but Dean hardly stirred. 

He was sprawled out, Cas nearly on top of him as his head rested on the couch arm and Cas’s head rested on the other’s chest. It was comforting and warm (which was likely why Cas was coughing). 

Dean simply shifted further into the couch, mumbling something in his sleep as Cas rose and hurried to the bathroom. The hunter only woke because Cas had forgotten to close the door, and he heard him retching into the toilet. 

He stumbled to his feet, still in a daze of sleep, and hurried to help. “Cas, are you alright?” He was on his knees beside him in an instant, reaching out to set a comforting hand on the middle of his back. 

The former angel couldn’t speak. Since he’d had nothing to eat in what seemed days, his body did nothing but dry heave, and Dean knew how painful that was. All he could do was sit there and hope it would stop soon, otherwise Cas would have to go to the hospital.

Dean knew enough to know he could damage something with too much of this. He didn’t know enough to help this stop. 

There were tears in Cas’s eyes now, and Dean felt his heart fall. “S-Sammy!” he got to his feet and raced to find his brother as he called for him. “Sam - Sammy!” 

Sam rushed around the corner with fear in his eyes, his shoulders tense. “What is it, Dean?” He seemed to take up the entire hallway, and Dean couldn’t have been happier to see his brother standing there looking like a savior. 

“Cas - he’s - it won’t stop! He can’t stop dry heaving, and I don’t know what to do to help,” Dean replied as he led Sam to the bathroom. 

At the state Cas was in, Sam jumped into action. “Ok, Dean, go grab the ginger from the pantry, fast,” he ordered. Dean took off, and Sam poked his head out to call after him. “Hey! Get one of those ginger honey tonics, I keep them in the very top!” 

Dean called back an affirmation that he’d heard and took off at a full sprint, nearly falling as he took all three stairs at once. Sam hurried back to Cas and soaked a rag in cold water. “I’m gonna put this on the back of your neck, it should help.” 

Cas shivered when it hit his skin. A single tear fell from his cheek as the bouts continued with no signs of stopping. Next, Sam went to the cabinets and searched for the rubbing alcohol. He found it and left the room to soak cotton balls in it, then stuck it in a ziplock bag. He set the bag on the countertop, knowing the strong smell was supposed to help. 

“What’s going on?” Kevin asked frantically as he came into the bathroom. He had heard Dean calling for his brother and came to check. “Is Cas ok?” he asked next, worry in his eyes. 

“I dunno, Kevin. He can’t stop, so we’re trying everything I can think of from my high school med class,” Sam admitted sheepishly. 

“Ginger?” Kevin wondered. Sam gave a nod. “I can smell the alcohol, so you got that,” he added. “Do you guys have any antiemetic?” 

“Uhm - that helps with..?” Sam trailed off, trying to recall the term. Was it good for the fever or the nausea?

“Nausea and vomiting. You have Dramamine? Or Bonine? It’s over the counter stuff,” Kevin told him as Sam bent to search for either of them. “They’re better for motion sickness, but I doubt Cas wants Pepto-Bismol right now.” 

Sam held up a bottle. “Is Pentazine ok?” 

“That’s prescription, Sam! We can’t give him that, it’s illegal!” Kevin exclaimed (as if them stealing credit cards wasn’t illegal, not to mention impersonating FBI agents, sheriffs, police, and plenty of other things). 

“It’s all we fucking have!” Sam snapped, his terror making him angry. Dean was back now, and nearly shoving Kevin out of the way. 

“Here, I got this!” He thrust the bottle at his brother and took ahold of the pills. “Is this good for this too?” he questioned. Kevin almost spoke up, but Sam slammed the door before he could contradict him. 

“Yes. It’s good for nausea, so is the isopropyl,” Sam said. Dean glanced at the counter where the bag lay, sealed off. The smell still permeated throughout the small room. 

And Cas was still struggling for breath. When he wasn’t retching, he hiccuped. The tears in his eyes were pouring freely now, too. Sam knelt beside him and rubbed his back. “Is the smell helping?” His voice was hopeful, but Cas let out a sob as another wave of heaving hit. 

Dean watched nervously, his face pallid in his panic. “Sammy, is he gonna be ok?” 

Sam’s heart nearly broke at how tiny his brother’s voice sounded. He wished he could tell him something good. “I don’t know. We may have to take him to the hospital. All this can dehydrate him, and that’s worse.” 

“The nearest hospital is over 20 minutes away,” Dean said. And suddenly the situation was dire. Sam pulled out his phone and dialed 911. 

“We can’t risk them knowing where the bunker is, but we’re gonna have to,” explained Sam. 

Dean took his brother’s spot at Cas’s side, latching onto his shoulder as Sam talked to the operator. His heart was thumping at a pace so fast he was worried all those cheeseburgers would give him a heart attack. 

“They’re on the way,” Sam said when he hung up. Dean barely heard him, he was too focused on Castiel to notice him leave the bathroom either. He took Kevin outside to wait for the ambulance. 

There was a break then, and Cas gasped desperately for air. “Here, try this,” Dean held out the pills and the tonic. “Take small sips.” 

Cas nodded and did as he was told. His face twisted up in disgust at the drink. “I don’t like ginger,” he told him, voice raspy as if he hadn’t used it in months. 

Dean couldn’t help but let out a laugh. “Yeah, it’s shit. But it’s supposed to help.” He didn’t realize his hand was still stuck firmly on Cas’s shoulder. 

And then suddenly, Cas lurched forward, slamming his head into the porcelain of the toilet lid. “Cas!” Dean grabbed onto him to keep him from getting hurt anymore. His head was bleeding from the gash as he seized in the hunter’s arms. 

“Fuck, fuck,” Dean was on the verge of crying as he reached for the roll of toilet paper. Anything to stop the bleeding (head wounds were the worse about pouring blood). The sticky liquid was all over his hands.

When the cloth came apart in his hands, he ripped his shirt into shreds and tied it around the wound. “Stay with me Cas. You’re ok,” he called to him. 

Cas’s limbs flailed helplessly at his sides, and he let out pained groans as the seizure went on. “It’s ok, Cas,” Dean forced himself to say the words, trying to convince himself that it was a dream. None of this was really happening, he was having a nightmare. 

“It’s ok, Cas, it’s ok,” he kept repeated the mantra, trying to convince himself of the same thing. His voice wobbled unsteadily and he silently cursed himself for being so weak when his friend needed strength. 

“Dean! They’re here!” Sam’s voice called down the hallway like a beacon. 

“Sam, hurry!” Dean yelled now, his words breaking in alarm. 

The paramedics rushed in and moved Dean aside, getting to work. “We’ve got a Code 4, have a room clear when we get back,” one of them radioed back to the hospital. 

“10-4.” The reply was crackled. 

They got to work immobilizing Cas onto a backboard before carrying him off. One of them stayed behind to speak to the brothers. “Any prior medical conditions?” 

“No,” Sam was the one to respond, as Dean was already following after the others. “He has burns on his arms. From learning to grill, he’s awful at it.” 

“Have you given him anything?” 

“We gave him a little bit of ginger honey tonic, and antiemetics,” Sam said. The paramedic nodded. 

“Good, quick thinking. If you want to follow behind us, we’ll get him taken in.” 

Sam gave a nod. “Thank you.” 

*****

“BP is 87 over 80” recited one paramedic as he read from the monitors Cas was hooked up to. The other wrote it down and Dean was left to wonder what the hell that meant. “Pulse of 55, decrease on inhalation,” he added. 

Dean knew that was bad, and way too low for someone of Cas’s size. He had no idea what it meant for Cas’s pulse to lower when he breathed in. 

He was just grateful they had stopped the bleeding from Cas’s gash. 

The paramedic stood and shone a flashlight in his eyes. “Unequal and non reactive pupils.” 

Dean didn’t know what that meant either, but he knew it was bad. Cas was in bad shape, and lord he was terrified. “Respiration rate of 10.” 

Dean also knew that was too low. 

“Is he gonna be alright?” He almost didn’t want to ask, because what if they said no and he lost Cas? 

The EMT glanced at him as his partner fitted an oxygen mask over Cas’s mouth to help. “He’s got a concussion for sure. We won’t know more until we get him in.” 

Dean nodded. He prayed for the ambulance to go faster. 

*****

It was a dream. 

He felt like he was floating through space; and Cas smiled at him as he went past. 

Sam helped him grill burgers and hot dogs. The sun shined warmly and the crips grass was green and bright. 

*****

Dean jerked awake when Sam nudged him. They’d been waiting to hear news about Cas for hours. He’d fallen asleep in one of the most uncomfortable chairs in the world, and now had the worst crick in his neck. 

He straightened when he saw the doctor approaching them. “Castiel is finally stable. It was a little touch and go there for a while, I won’t lie. But you two acted quick, probably saved his life. If you hadn’t bandaged that head wound, I’m not sure how well it would’ve gone.” 

Dean gulped down the bitter taste in his mouth, remembering the awful noise as Cas had crashed into the bowl. 

“He has a concussion, I’m sure you knew that,” said the doctor. “He went into cardiac arrest shortly after the EMTs got him into the room, but he pulled through. Your boyfriend is one hell of a fighter,” he grinned at Dean who barely registered his words and just nodded along. 

“The seizure was because of his sudden drop in blood pressure. We call it a vasovagal syncope. It’s a very fast and very sudden drop in blood pressure.” 

“He’ll recover?” Sam asked for them both. 

“Oh, yes. Definitely. He’s already awake and aware again. The only complication was that head wound. He lost a lot of blood, and was pretty dehydrated. But we’ve got him on IV fluids, and the gash is all stitched up. He’ll recover fine. Even those burns he had.” 

Sam cringed at the last part. But Dean breathed a sigh of relief, and the tension in his shoulders released. “Can we see him?” 

“I’d say one at a time. We don’t want to overwhelm him, especially when he’s got a concussion.” 

Sam nodded and motioned for Dean to go first. The older Winchester stood and followed the doctor without speaking. His hands were finally done sweating. 

“Your boyfriend is here to visit, Castiel,” the doctor said as he poked his head into the room. 

“Oh, no, we aren’t - I’m not -“ 

“Dean?” Cas wondered, his voice more gravel than he was used to hearing. It did odd things to the pit of his stomach. 

Dean didn’t bother disputing the doctor telling Cas that, yes, his boyfriend Dean was here to see him. He no longer cared enough to. 

They were left alone. 

“Hey, Cas. How’re you feeling?” asked Dean softly. He’d dealt with concussions before. 

“Tired,” murmured in Cas in reply. “I’m sorry.” 

“What? Sorry for what, Cas? This isn’t on you. Don’t ever be sorry for something like this,” Dean demanded. 

Cas looked up at him, and Dean could see what the paramedics had meant about unequal pupils (one was so dilated it nearly took over the sapphire of his iris). “Ok.” 

Dean took a seat beside Cas’s bed, wringing his hands together. “Glad you’re alright. You had me worried that you were gonna -“ he stopped short and tried to gulp past the lump in his throat. 

Cas reached his hand out and Dean took ahold of it without hesitation, squeezing gently to ground himself (he had to be sure this was real, that Cas was here). 

“I kept telling myself the same thing, over and over,” he said. 

“That it would be ok?” asked Cas. 

Dean shook his head and resisted the urge to lace his fingers in Cas’s (because he wasn’t gay, but the guy was his best friend and best friends did that stuff when one nearly dies). “I kept telling myself it was a dream.”


	10. Day Ten - “The Right Answer”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for talk of depressing subjects

Prompt a Day #10

“Alright, Sam, your turn,” Dean announced when he came back from Cas’s room. 

“How is he?” Sam wondered before he left. Dean gave him a thumbs up. “What did you guys talk about?” 

“Nothing important. We just kinda watched TV. He got a headache though so I had to turn it off,” Dean said. 

It was a lie, but Dean wasn’t ready for his brother to know anything. And Cas had agreed to keep it between them for now. Thinking back on the conversation, it seemed like a reasonable conclusion. It seemed like the only one that made sense, but Dean was still hesitant about going through with it. 

What would other people think? 

No, Dean definitely wasn’t ready to tell anyone else about what Cas had spoke of in that room. It wasn’t the fact that Sam didn’t deserve to know (he did, it concerned him in a sense too), but Dean didn’t think he could truly handle the conversation well enough to let his brother know. 

It was better this way. It was the right answer. 

*****

“Hey, Cas. How’re you doing?” asked Sam when he walked in. The room seemed a little hot, but he said nothing. 

Cas glanced over at him and gave a small smile. “Much better. I’m sorry to have worried you both.” 

Sam sat at the chair by his bed. “You don’t have to be sorry about this. Or any of it, for that matter, Cas. This isn’t your fault.” He reached out and patted Cas’s arm, giving him a gentle grin. 

Cas withdrew from his touch (of course he did, Sam was the boy with the demon blood after all, and his touch was poison to Cas). Sam leaned back in his chair and linked his hands together. 

“You look tired,” said Sam suddenly. The bags under Cas’s eyes were dark and stood out strongly against his now pale skin. 

The former angel gave a nod. “I have not been sleeping very well. I am worried about you and Dean, and I fear my condition only makes things worse.” 

Sam straightened in his seat and frowned. “Don’t say that,” he argued. “You’re our friend, and we’ll do anything to help you. You’re not a fucking burden,” he went on angrily. “And you’re important to both of us. You shouldn’t be worried about us, man.” 

Cas sighed and looked away from him, eyes sad. “Thank you, Sam. Hearing you say that means a lot to me,” he admitted (which surprised Sam hugely, because how could anything he said mean anything to Cas?). 

“I mean it,” Sam added. “You were a huge blessing. And still are. You saved my brother, and you saved me,” he continued. 

“I barely saved you. I brought you back without a soul, Sam,” Cas retorted sourly. 

“That wasn’t your fault!” Sam exclaimed. “You were the only one willing to go to Lucifer’s cage just to save me. Me, Cas! The guy who gulped down demon blood and let Lucifer out in the first place!” 

Cas looked over at him ruefully. “Those actions do not define you, Sam.” 

“Really? Because, if I remember right, the first thing you called me was the boy with the demon blood. And I was the one who had faith! I prayed, and I was the one who wasn’t good enough. Dean didn’t even fucking believe in you guys! I always did, even at my worst! You can’t imagine the - the pain I felt when I heard an angel say that. Especially because I spent my whole damn life trying to outlive what Azazel did to me! I saved people, Cas!” Sam was barely shouting, but Cas still cringed as if his words burned. 

“I never told you how sorry I was for that,” Cas began. “I was... very different then. I never meant to say those words, truly. But when Uriel showed up, I knew I would have to. He was so... much of a douchebag.” 

Sam laughed at the word. It was foreign coming from Cas, and he said it as if it tasted weird in his mouth. “That’s the truth,” he said. 

The corners of Cas’s mouth twisted up into a fleeting smile. It broke Sam’s heart to see him so defeated. 

“So, what did you and Dean watch on the TV?” 

Cas glanced up at him, likely thinking of what it had been. “I... can’t seem to remember. Strange.” 

“That’s ok. I think it’s normal to have memory problems after a seizure,” Sam consoled him. “Plus, you have a concussion, so that doesn’t help.” 

Cas gave him a grateful smile. “Yes. It is still strange to know that I’ve come so low. I used to have a purpose. Now it seems my only purpose is to not have one.” 

“Bullshit,” Sam snapped. Cas jumped and looked over at him in shock. “You have a purpose, Cas. You’re here to help Dean and I. Without you, I’m not sure we would’ve made it this far.” 

“I doubt that,” Cas remarked. “All I ever did was fly to meet you. I didn’t help much.” 

“You helped. All the time, man. More than you know. More than you can ever know,” Sam argued. He couldn’t believe that any of those words had just left Cas’s mouth. “And you still help us. Even now, when you’re bedridden. I mean, I’ve never seen my brother look like this.” 

Cas lifted an eyebrow. “What do you mean?” 

Sam sighed heavily. “I just mean, Dean is usually a mess. And this is the best I’ve ever seen him. He’s nicer, he hasn’t been drinking as much. He’s just - I dunno, better.” 

Cas blinked slowly, as if processing the information. And then he looked back to the ceiling and gave a silent sigh. “Truthfully, we didn’t watch television. We spoke about many things.” 

Sam raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Really? Dean actually talked about something?” 

A short laugh left Cas’s chest, and he nodded. “Yes, surprisingly he did. Don’t tell him that I said anything. We agreed to keep everything between us.” 

“Yeah, I figured. I won’t tell him,” said Sam. Cas grinned, because once again Sam had given him the right answer.


	11. Day Eleven - “Nothin’ But Blue Skies”

Prompt a Day #11

While the hospital had Cas on fluids, he still refused to eat. Today marked the seventeenth day with him being both wingless and graceless. And it was starting to show. 

He was sleeping on and off all day, and though the color in his skin returned, the bags under his eyes only grew darker and darker. He was getting worse, and both brothers knew it. 

And Dean showed his fear in increasingly strange ways. Sam could understand the pacing and the newfound habit of biting his nails. He could even see the absence of Dean when they were at the bunker and he left to clean the Impala. Again. 

What Sam didn’t get was why Dean was on the phone at insane hours of the night talking in low murmurs. Low enough that Sam could never make out the words, just the lighthearted tone of Dean’s voice. 

Who the hell was his brother talking to as if he were in love? Cas was dying, and all he cared about was some girl. It pissed Sam off, especially when Dean all but refused to see Cas in the hospital during visiting hours.

So, finally, when Sam decided he’d had enough, he barged right into Dean’s room during one of these phone calls. His brother didn’t even react, just gave him a wave and kept right on talking. 

“Dude,” Sam said. 

Dean rolled his eyes but put the phone down. “What?” 

“Unless that’s Cas I’m about to get pissed off at you,” Sam told him. 

“It is Cas,” Dean said without hesitation. 

“I’m not an idiot,” snapped Sam almost instantly. He crossed his arms and waited for a proper explanation. 

“Cas, I’ve gotta go. Sam’s being an idiot,” Dean said purposefully before hanging up. He stood and walked out of the room, past his brother. “It is Cas. I’ve been talking to him every night on the phone, for the past three days.” 

Sam followed after him as he went through the bunker. “What?” he asked him. “Are you joking?” 

Dean glanced at him over his shoulder. “Why? You don’t think I’d wanna talk to Cas?” 

“No, it’s just - I didn’t think it was Cas. You haven’t been wanting to go with me to the hospital to see him,” Sam defended. He felt guilty for assuming Dean had been talking with a girl. 

“Yeah, ‘cause I talk with him on the phone. It’s less tiring for him to do that,” said Dean. 

“Oh,” was all Sam could manage. He hadn’t expected Dean to be so considerate of Cas, but he should’ve known better (after all, it was Castiel. Dean was always different when Cas was involved). They arrived in the kitchen. 

“You want burgers? I’m tired of frozen meals,” Dean said. Truth was, he wanted to take one to Cas. Maybe something homemade would prompt him to eat. And it would give him a chance to talk more about what had happened earlier. 

“Sure. I guess,” Sam agreed. His voice was wary. Dean hated making his brother worry for no reason, but he really wasn’t ready to tell Sam anything (not that it was a big deal). 

Dean grabbed what he needed and got to work. It didn’t seem to hit him the Sam’s hesitation had been because it was nearly midnight. 

“You seem like you’re in a good mood,” started Sam casually. 

Dean cursed himself for being unable to hide his emotions. But with Sam it was hard, the kid knew him better than anyone. It was almost scary. “What do you mean?” 

He couldn’t see his brother, but he knew Sam had given him a shrug and was staring at the back of his head. “I don’t know. It’s close to midnight and you wanna make burgers?“ 

Dean scoffed at the words. “So? I always want burgers, man,” he argued. He could feel the bitch face boring a hole into his neck. 

“You haven’t brought up anything about us getting Cas his wings back? With him gone, I’d think you’d wanna do it without him knowing,” Sam retorted. It was a low blow, even for him, and he knew it. But it had to be said. 

At that, Dean turned to glare at him. “Was that really necessary?” 

Sam crossed his arms again and frowned. “I dunno, Dean. Considering all the things you’ve done behind our backs? I would say so.” 

“First off, fuck you, Sam,” Dean growled out through a tense jaw. Sam immediately regretted the words, the hurt in his brother’s eyes palpable (there was nothing he could do to take them back now). “Second, it’s Cas’s choice. And he said no. A lot.” 

Sam clicked his tongue in annoyance. “Right, because that’s stopped you before. What the hell is going on between you two lately? I mean, are you still hung up on that stupid prayer?” 

“Drop it, Sam.” 

“No, seriously, Dean. What’s the big deal? What, just because he’s an angel means you can’t have sex with him? Your gonna - what - ruin his angelness or something?” Sam was standing now, lurching toward his brother with jerky steps. 

Dean swung, but Sam dodge and grabbed onto his arm, forcing it behind his back until he had his brother pinned. “Let go!” Dean ordered, his voice sounding like it was on the verge of tears. 

“No!” Sam yelled. “This is bullshit! You’re not poison, Dean! You deserve to be happy, with whoever the hell makes you happy! Who the fuck cares if it’s a girl or a guy or a fucking angel!?” 

Dean said nothing, but Sam could feel his body struggling against his hold. Sam was taller though, and that gave him the advantage for now. 

“Just because Cas is in a dude, doesn’t mean you can’t have feelings for him!” Sam went on. “I don’t care what dad said, loving someone isn’t weakness, Dean!” His voice rose in his impatience (and he prayed he was getting through to him). “And I know! I know, Dean. I know what it’s like to love someone you know you don’t deserve.” 

Finally, Dean relaxed and Sam released his hold. And then Dean whirled around and punched him in the face. “Fuck you, Sam. You don’t know anything.” 

He flexed his fist absently as he glared at his brother. “No, fuck you! I do know! You keep trying to act like it’s nothin’ but blue skies, but I know how pissed and upset you are! Cas is dying and you can’t handle it!” 

Dean clenched his fist again, eyes watching Sam’s every move. “Like you’re so much better? You can’t say shit, Sam.” 

“I never said I was any better! I’m freaking out, Dean! I don’t wanna lose Cas, he’s my only friend. You don’t think this is hard for me?” Sam asked him, voice suddenly going soft in surprise. 

Dean frowned at him deeply, unwilling to say anything else. 

“One of these days you’re gonna have to face what you’re feeling for him. It’s more than just friendship, Dean. I’m not stupid, so don’t act like I am,” Sam continued. He walked away before either of them could say anything else they might regret. 

Nothin’ but blue skies.


	12. Day Twelve - “This Good Earth”

Prompt a Day #12

The bitter words of yesterday still rested heavily in Dean’s mind. He hated that his brother was always able to get under his skin, push the buttons he didn’t even know he had. It disgusted him. 

What sucked the most was that his little brother didn’t even have to try. He knew Dean better than anyone, and that meant he knew what to say to piss him off. It also meant he knew exactly what to say to make Dean hate himself and wish he’d just face everything. 

Were his feelings for Cas truly more than friendship? The angel had been his only friend in years. He pulled him from Hell, rebuilt every part of him until he was whole. 

The prayer he’d sent the last night in Purgatory was a desperate attempt to reconnect with his best friend, the shock factor would bring him back (isn’t that how that worked). But it didn’t. And Dean was left with the knowledge that he’d prayed to Cas for sex. 

No, not sex. He’d prayed to him for much more than that. He’d begged him to unravel him, to arrive and care for him in such an intimate way. What had his exact words been again? He’d blocked out that prayer for so long, he couldn’t remember. Cas would know, but he didn’t want to ask. 

He didn’t want Cas to relive that again. He’d refused him, he hadn’t shown, and Dean knew why (because even if he was the Righteous Man he was still poison to everyone around him). Plus, it was something Dean was ashamed of. 

How dare he ask an Angel of the Lord for such unholy things. To sin, turn his back on his creator (his father) and worship Dean. Another wave of disgust surged through him at the absurdity of it all. He was pissed at himself for thinking anything like that would ever happen. With an angel, no doubt. 

The realization of how hurt he was suddenly hit him. Fuck, his brother was right. That was definitely more than just friendship. He’d always written it off as the Profound Bond he had with Cas, but somehow this was different. 

Or maybe he was overthinking the whole thing. He couldn’t be in love with Cas. He was a dude, first off (and Dean wasn’t gay). 

Well, technically, he was a multidimensional wavelength of celestial intent. 

The excuse just popped into Dean’s head, and he cursed himself silently. Something in his mind clicked when the phone rang, and he raised it to his ear to say hello. 

“Hello, Dean,” greeted Cas happily. He sounded better today, at least in energy. 

“Hey, Cas. You sound a little better, how’re you feeling?” asked Dean. He cringed at the obvious wobble in his voice. 

“Better today, thank you. I ate some chocolate pudding.” 

“That’s awesome.” Dean stalled, searching for something to say. 

Cas broke the silence first. “Have you told Sam more about what we talked about?” 

“No,” Dean said. “I haven’t told him anything. He’s being strange,” he admitted. It surprised him to know he was okay with telling Cas this (was he always willing to be more sharing when it came to him). 

“Strange?” Cas wondered. “In what way?” 

“It’s not important,” Dean told him. He didn’t want Cas to worry about them when he was the one lying in a hospital bed. 

“You are important, Dean. Therefore this is important,” Cas argued blandly. Always so serious, and it made Dean’s neck burn. 

“I don’t know, man,” started Dean. “He keeps saying I have to face stuff and he knows how I feel. You know, the usual Sam bull.” 

“So, in what way is he being strange?” Cas asked again. 

Dean tightened his grip on the landline phone, staring at the ground. “He won’t drop it. He’s brought it up like ten times now. And this is the second time I’ve clocked him.” 

“You... punched your brother? Again?” Cas questioned, making sure he got Dean’s anachronism correct. 

“Yeah,” nodded Dean. “He keeps bringing it up.” 

“What does he keep bringing up?” wondered Cas then, voice full of curiosity. Dean closed his eyes and debated telling him. 

Wasn’t he supposed to not let Cas relive that? “About the - the thing. In Purgatory. The prayer I sent you.” 

Cas made a small humming noise and then went silent. Both of them waited for the other to say something, as if the silence would solve anything between them. 

Dean listened to the sound of Cas’s steady breathing (thank God for that) and hoped he would speak up. 

“Why does that bother you? It was just a prayer,” Cas finally said. 

Dean gave a sigh of relief. “That’s what I keep trying to tell him. He keeps making up stuff, like I’m repressing feelings or something ridiculous.” 

“You aren’t gay,” Cas pointed out like he was reciting an advertisement. 

“Exactly!” exclaimed Dean. At least Cas understood what he meant. “It’s annoying as hell, and I’m this close to strangling him, Cas.” 

“Don’t do that. This good earth could not afford to lose a Winchester,” Cas said. For some reason, the words made Dean’s heart speed up, and he smiled. “I apologize for being unable to help.” 

“Don’t be sorry, buddy. I’m just glad you get what I’m saying. Sam doesn’t seem to understand me, no matter how many times is tell him something,” Dean told him. “I swear though, if he brings it up one more time I’m kicking him out.” 

That made Cas chuckle warmly, and the sound melted Dean’s frown into a gorgeous grin. “I wish I could speak with you longer, but I must leave. Goodbye, Dean.” 

“Bye, Cas.” 

*****

Dean found his brother holed up in the bunker’s main room, with a thick book in front of him. “Doing some light reading, Granger?” 

Sam looked up at him and shot him a glare. He said nothing. 

“Real mature, Sammy,” Dean commented coolly. 

“You’re the older brother here,” Sam said back, as if that excused his behavior (although, with Dean involved it was a valid point). 

“Whatever,” Dean muttered. He sat down across from his brother and slammed his hand down on the book. Sam jumped at that and went back to glaring at him. “I talked to Cas.” 

Sam’s gaze softened slightly. “And?” 

“We didn’t watch TV when I went in with him,” Dean admitted. He scrubbed the back of his neck nervously. “We - uh - we actually talked about the whole thing with his wings. Well, that was one part of it. But he told me about what could happen to the vessel. If he gets them back, I mean.” 

Sam nodded along, showing he was listening intently. 

“That’s why I didn’t...” Dean trailed off. “Truth is, if he hadn’t told me, that first thing I would’ve done is do the spell. I’m a piece of shit like that.” He wouldn’t meet his brother’s eyes, didn’t want to see the disappointment in them. 

“Dude, shut up. You’re not a piece of shit,” Sam retorted. “Not all the time,” he added with a good-natured smile. “What else did you talk about?” 

Here came the hard part. The part Dean wasn’t sure he could handle telling his baby brother. But he knew he had to, for both of their sakes. Because if this kept on, Dean was going to lose his mind and drive Sam away (because he drove everyone he cared about away). 

“We talked about the - the prayer. From Purgatory,” Dean replied finally. His eyes gripped tightly onto his thighs, and he could feel the heat coming through his jeans. 

“Oh, really?” Sam wondered. “That’s surprising.” 

“Yeah, well, Cas instigated it,” Dean snapped. Sam knew the topic was a sensitive subject, but the sudden change in mood in his brother told him he shouldn’t fuck around. 

“Sorry,” Sam said. “What - uh - why did you guys talk about it?” he asked, closing the book and sliding it away from himself so he could focus. 

Dean all but squirmed in his seat. “I kinda blocked out that memory. Of what I prayed about. So I kinda asked him to tell me what I said. Exactly. Word for word.” 

“Ok,” said Sam. He wasn’t sure what Dean was getting at with all of this, but it was progress and that’s all he cared about. 

Dean took a breath that stuttered in the back of his throat. “Dude, I - fuck - I asked him for sex. Jesus Christ, Sam. I knew that at least, but, I mean - fuck. He’s an angel for cryin’ out loud!” 

“Calm down. It’s done, you can’t take it back,” Sam soothed. “And it doesn’t seem to bother Cas.” 

“Yeah, I know. You know why it doesn’t bother Cas?” asked Dean, his eyes going wide. 

Sam raised an eyebrow in question. Whatever revelation had come over his brother when he’d talked to Cas apparently struck a chord. 

“Because he fucking - he - he wanted to! And that scared the hell outta me to hear him say that.” The words were flowing out of Dean in a rush, like if he didn’t say it all he’d never speak again. “And what scared me most was that I was actually relieved to hear that! How fucked up is that!? He’s an angel, Sam! I’m just a dude! And a crappy dude at that!” 

“Woah, ok, Dean. Stop, stop!” Sam finally forced him to close his mouth. His brother’s eyes were full of terror, though not at the revelation. More because he was fearful of what Sam would say to all of this. “It’s ok, man. You deserve to be happy. Even if it is with an angel. You want a relationship with him? I’m cool with that. You want to be just friends? I’m cool with that, too. Cas knows the life, he understands it. No matter what you decide, you’re still my brother. Nothing is gonna change that.” 

Dean’s shoulders relaxed at the words, and his eyes filled with gratefulness (he hadn’t expected Sam to be so open). 

Cas had been right about this good earth.


	13. Day Thirteen - “Dare to Hope”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS IS IT GUYS   
> GET READY

Prompt a Day #13 

“There’s a storm on the way,” Kevin pointed out on the way to the hospital. The doctor had said that Cas was finally stable and well enough to take home (he was even starting to gain his weight back). 

He seemed to be making a recovery, and it was something that Dean hadn’t expected to happen. 

The doctor also mentioned he still had a cough, but that it was due to his dehydration and should start to leave now that he was better. All three of them were ecstatic, but Dean was almost scared. Like it was a dare to hope for any of this. 

He didn’t voice the worry though, he kept it to himself. He couldn’t let Sam or Kevin know that he doubted Cas’s health. He couldn’t even let Cas know, it would likely ruin his entire friendship with the guy. What would he even say (“By the way, Cas, I don’t actually believe you’re gonna survive”)? 

Dean glanced up at the clouds when the road cleared. “Yep. Looks like a bad one, too,” he agreed. Even Sam looked a little apprehensive at the prospect of bad weather. 

It felt like an omen of something worse to come. The sky darkened in a rush, as if running a race and it was determined to win. But Dean was just as determined to outrun it. He revved the engine and Baby took off down the highway toward the hospital. 

The 25 minute drive was shorted to only 18, with both Sam and Kevin grabbing onto anything they could to keep themselves from flying all over the Impala. Dean, of course, laughed and hooted the whole time in joy. 

When they arrived inside, Cas was sitting in a wheelchair in the waiting room, talking to one of the nurses. He grinned when he spotted the three walking toward him, and the nurse turned to greet them. 

“Hello! You must be Castiel’s family,” she said happily. 

“Yes, that’s us,” Sam smiled. 

“Which one of you is the husband?” she asked next, glancing between Sam and Dean. 

Cas glanced up at her and frowned. “Maya, I already told you, I’m not married to -“ 

“That would be me,” Dean suddenly announced. Sam, Cas, and Kevin all turned to look at him in surprise. “I’m Dean.” He shook the nurse’s hand with a gorgeous smile. “This is my brother Sam. And this is our adopted brother, Kevin,” he went on, pointing to each in turn. 

“It’s wonderful to meet you, Dean. I’ve heard many good things about the Winchester family from Cas. He’s very happy to be a part of it,” Maya (of course Dean had listened to her name from Cas) said. “How long have you two been together?” 

Dean floundered for a moment on what to say, but Cas spoke up. “We’ve known each other for nearly five years. And we’ve been... married for three.” 

Sam looked over at his brother with a cheerful smile and clapped him on the back. “Oh, yeah. They’re the cutest! It’s like they have some profound bond, the way they are together.” 

Kevin nodded along. “Yep, super cute. It’s almost like they were made for each other. And Cas practically pulled Dean out of Hell! He’s like his guardian angel or something!” 

Dean just barely resisted the urge to glare at the two of them, but kept a kind smile plastered on his mouth. “Yep, he’s pretty great,” he agreed stiffly. The nurse didn’t seem to catch the tone. 

“Well, I’m sure he’s glad to be going home,” she said with a wink in Dean’s direction. His ears burned and his cheeks went hot as embarrassment flooded through him. Even Cas dropped his intense gaze to the floor, as if he’d caught the look. 

She wheeled Cas over to them and Dean took over, pushing the wheelchair as quick as he could away from the nurse. “Thank you for picking me up,” said Cas. 

Dean looked down at him, knowing Sam and Kevin were too far ahead to hear anything he might say. “Of course. Wouldn’t leave you.” 

“I could have told her I wasn’t married,” Cas finally said. Dean’s hands tightened on the handles (even knowing he would bring it up couldn’t prepare him). 

“Yeah. I know,” Dean told him. 

“Then why did you say what you did?” asked Cas. 

Dean swallowed harshly. He hadn’t wanted to be asked that, even if he’d known he would be. “I dunno, man. It felt...” he paused a moment, gaining the courage to say what he wanted (what he needed). “Right. It felt right.” 

Cas went quiet at that. And Dean’s heart was beating a mile a minute (this was the part he had been dreading. Cas’s reaction was important). Sam and Kevin were already far away, waiting at the car patiently as Dean walked slowly and pushed Cas (he’d told his brother ahead of time what he’d been planning, which was another battle in itself). 

“I’m a man,” said Cas, as if that pertained to anything Dean said (although, with Dean that did matter and Cas knew that). 

Dean cringed, hating the confusion in Cas’s voice (mostly because that meant he’d have to explain it). “Yeah, I know that. Technically you’re an angel, until now, I guess. I guess I just - I dunno - don’t care.” 

Cas craned his head back to look up at Dean. “Are you on drugs? Or possessed?” His voice killed Dean (because the Righteous Man could never love an abomination like him. The idea was absurd, Cas was a fallen angel, and a burden at that). 

“No!” Dean snapped, quickly losing his nerve. He should’ve known this would never happen. “Just forget it, Cas,” he muttered. 

*****

Cas walked around the bunker by himself, no longer needing the assistance of the wheelchair (his legs had gotten stronger again since he’d been at the hospital). He knocked on Dean’s door and waited for a response. 

The shock of Dean’s reveal (his declaration? His outing? Cas wasn’t sure what to call it) had left the former angel in disbelief. If it were true, he would need to let Dean know of his own feelings (the ones he’d been having since he pulled the hunter’s brightly lit soul from Hell). 

If it were a joke, Cas would likely punch him (or he’d at least get Sam to do it). 

Either way, he was dreading this. He longed to have his grace back, it would take away that hesitation in his mind, the uncertainty. With his grace, he would have no trouble telling Dean how he felt (he was more than a little blunt). But now, his human mind was filled with doubts and anxiety and fear. 

Dean’s door opened a sliver, wide enough for Cas to meet the green irises of Dean’s eyes. 

“Hello, Dean,” he greeted automatically. He swore he saw Dean’s eyes narrow a bit, but he couldn’t be sure. 

“What is it?” wondered Dean. It wasn’t harsh or cold, it was a blatant question with no emotion. 

“Is what you said earlier true?” Cas decided to just blurt out the words, knowing it would be far easier than attempting to be eloquent. 

And this time, Cas was sure Dean’s eyes narrowed. It didn’t seem like anger, not truly. The expression in his eyes signaled Cas that Dean was terrified of this (which didn’t surprise the former angel one bit). His feelings were displayed out in the open now, words that couldn’t be taken back. And Cas didn’t believe him. 

The realization hit Cas so fast that it knocked the breath out of him, and he stood staring at a silent Dean. “My apologies. I didn’t mean - I just meant - I -“ he stopped and gulped nervously. “This is much harder than I imagined.” 

(And Cas suddenly knew how Dean felt, as if he were in the other’s shoes). 

“Spit it out, Cas,” said Dean. He was surprisingly calm considering Cas stood in front of him and he’d just told him earlier it felt right to say they were together. 

“I return your sentiment,” Cas told him. The wording made Dean frown and furrow his brows in confusion. “I mean to say that I think it feels right. Us, I mean.” 

There. He had finally said what he wanted, and now he wanted to crawl into a hole and die. His palms were sweating and his chest was fluttering with anticipation. Dean just stood there, speechless or dumbfounded or both. And Cas could see why this was a big problem for humans. Admitting your feelings for someone was awful. 

“What?” Dean finally spoke after what seemed years. The door opened wider until Dean was no longer hanging onto it for dear life. His eyes held a shred of hope, but his body language told Cas it was too good to be true. 

So the former angel did the only thing he knew to prove his words. He surged forward and captured Dean’s mouth in a firm kiss. 

It was strange in a way Dean wasn’t used to, stubble against his skin and Cas’s strong body against his and the perfect way Cas’s chapped lips fit against his own. 

He decided it was a good strange. And when Cas went to pull away, afraid of what he had done, Dean pulled him back. 

He was desperate now, all those months of denying himself of this because of his own terror. Dean’s hands found Cas’s arms and he latched on like his life depended on it. He wanted him closer, somehow this wasn’t enough. And then Cas’s tongue was sliding against his and (holy fuck) it was the best feeling in the world. He wanted more.

Dean’s breath came out in ragged bursts of fear when he finally paused long enough to take one. His hands trembled and quaked with the awareness of what he’d done, but his grip stayed locked on Cas. And it was Cas’s turn to pull Dean back.

He was gentle, a hand on Dean’s cheek guiding him back slowly. And the hunter let out a shuddering breath when Cas’s thumb stroked the side of his face as if he were the most precious thing. And when Cas kissed him again, he felt his knees buckle because this was far more than he ever deserved. 

“Are you two done?” 

Dean nearly jumped off the ground when Sam’s voice found his ears. He dropped his hands in an instant and pulled away from Cas like a bullet. Cas’s hand on his cheek moved away (much slower than Dean) but the other one resting on his hip almost refused to budge. 

“Didn’t mean to interrupt, seriously, but Kevin made dinner and wanted me to tell you,” Sam said. Dean was shocked to know his brother didn’t seem weirded out at finding him and Cas (a dude) making out in the hallway. 

That thought sent Dean’s entire body flaming with shame. If Sam noticed, he didn’t say anything. “But I’ll let him know you’re asleep. Or something.” 

As soon as he left, Cas turned back to Dean and cleared his throat as if to say something. He stayed silent. And Dean couldn’t help but be gleeful that he had taken the dare to hope.


	14. Day Fourteen - “Place”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Technically this is a day late, since I didn’t post before midnight   
> But enjoy nonetheless

Prompt a Day #14

Dean couldn’t sleep. After the events of earlier that day, the way his heart thudded in his chest when his lips met Cas’s, he didn’t think he could ever sleep again. 

He was terrified that he’d gone too far. He had been so desperate for more, pulling the former angel infinitely closer and drowning himself in his warm taste. Dean didn’t think he’d ever kissed anyone else like that (like his life depended on, like he would die if he stopped). He was worried that he’d ruined the only friendship he’d ever had. What if they didn’t work out? 

It was an absurd thought, Cas was the one that pulled him from Hell. He had rebuilt Dean (in every sense of the word). He had left his mark on the hunter (of course he’d healed it and it had long been gone). He had even tried to let Dean hear his true voice (of course he was nearly deaf for a week after). 

He could hear the storm outside (even though he really couldn’t), he could see the lightning striking everything in its path. He could feel the thunder rumbling through his body and shaking the walls. 

He swore his hands were still shaking furiously. And his heart, it was definitely going to burst free from his chest at anytime. 

A knock at the door made him jump to his feet quickly. He was almost hesitant to open it (what if it was Sam?) but he opened the door nonetheless. And Cas was standing there in some of Dean’s old clothes. 

“I can’t sleep,” said Cas. 

“Neither can I,” admitted Dean before he could overthink it. “Do you - I mean - it’s just - you could hang out in here - if you want.” 

“Are you inviting me to sleep in your room?” Cas wondered. 

“Well, I - yes,” Dean finally managed to force out. Cas let out a laugh at his nervousness and came into the room when the hunter finally moved enough for him to get past. 

“I should decorate my room now that I’m staying,” Cas told him, sitting on the bed. Dean closed the door and turned to look at the former angel. 

“That’d be cool. You could put a bookshelf in there, for your nerd moments,” Dean teased. It came naturally, and it didn’t seem strange at all. “Or you could start collecting feathers to put on the wall.” 

Cas’s expression turned sad for a moment. “I’m not sure about that,” he said. Dean kicked off his shoes and plopped down into the memory foam mattress beside him. “Seeing the feathers every day... I’m not sure I could handle that.” 

Dean felt his hand twitch at his side, wanting to reach out and comfort him. He resisted the urge, only because it was what he was used to doing before. 

“It’s getting late,” Cas pointed out. The clock at Dean’s nightstand read nearly midnight. 

“Yeah,” he agreed. Really, it wasn’t that late for him. He was used to going to sleep late and getting up early (four hours was all he needed to function). 

“This place feels different,” Cas spoke up. It was odd, the way he said it and made Dean worry.

“What do you mean?” asked Dean. 

Cas sighed and lied down to stare at the ceiling. “The bunker. It isn’t like I recall. It used to be like a home. It doesn’t feel the same anymore.” 

At that, Dean finally reached out against everything telling him not to and rested his hand where Cas’s neck met his jaw. “This is your home. And I’ll do everything I can to make it feel like one.” 

Cas smiled gratefully at him. There was no hurry with their kisses this time, no desperation in Dean’s movements as he pressed closer. It calmed him, rooted him farther into the reality of Cas finally being his (of himself finally destroying the thoughts of his doubt and self-depreciation). 

But it was still weird. Dean jumped when Cas’s hand found its way under his shirt and made contact. “My apologies,” Cas was quick to pull his hand away (this was new to Dean and he didn’t want to push him away). 

As much as Dean wanted more, he was also still absolutely terrified of what it would mean. He urged his brain to think of something intelligent to say, but all that came out was “No.” 

And Cas was pulling farther away at the denial. He knew how it felt, to not be ready. His first time was nonexistent as well, he had always hoped to save himself for Dean. 

But apparently Dean hadn’t meant no in the way Cas was thinking, because his grip at his neck tightened and pulled him back. “Talk to me, Dean,” Cas murmured softly, running a gentle hand through the hunter’s hair. 

Dean let out a strangled gasp as the touch left hot tracks in its wake. He could no longer form coherent thoughts, his brain felt like it was shutting down. 

“Dean,” Cas said again. 

“I don’t know,” Dean finally spoke. Cas pulled him closer (nearly on top of him now), and gave him a kiss on his forehead. “I want - I want everything,” he admitted hesitantly, not meeting Cas’s gaze (how could he ever take that intensity). 

“I return your sentiment,” said Cas. A gentle laugh followed his words. 

Dean enjoyed the feeling of being curled up in the former angel’s arms and fell asleep. This was the home he wanted. This was where he belonged. This was his place.


	15. Day Fifteen - “Gather”

Prompt a Day #15 

The next morning, Dean rose far before Cas did, which was odd since Cas usually woke before even Sam. 

And he was snoring, something he’d never done before. Something seemed strange with the former angel. 

“Hey, Sammy. You know Cas is still asleep?” 

Sam looked up at his brother in surprise. “Really? That’s not like him.” 

Dean rolled his eyes. “I know. That’s why I’m telling you,” he said. “And he’s snoring.” 

“How do you know?” asked Sam. 

And Dean’s cheeks were on fire (because no one else knew he and Cas had spent the night together. No one else knew how much it felt like home for him). “Does it matter?” 

Sam quirked an eyebrow but said nothing else on the subject. “Oh, dude. We’re idiots. It’s probably the concussion,” he admitted. “Oversleeping actually isn’t good for someone with one, but it’s a common thing. So is the snoring, I think.” 

“No, it’s not,” Kevin spoke up suddenly. “Snoring isn’t caused by concussion. The sleepiness is, but not that. It’s more likely caused by his weight gain at the hospital.” 

“So it’s not - uh - dangerous, or anything?” Dean wondered. 

Kevin shook his head. “No, he’ll be fine. It’ll go away after awhile once his body gets used to the weight. He was so skinny there, it’ll take some time I’m sure.” 

Both brothers nodded in understanding at Kevin’s words. They knew just how bad Cas had been. The pitch bags under his eyes had only been one of many clues, along with his inability to wear the trench coat since it would fall from his shoulders. 

“Alright, Kevin, since you’re the know it all here, tell us what else he might experience,” Sam finally broke the silence. 

Kevin dropped his head in embarrassment at the praise. “Uh - well, he could also have dizziness, slurred speech, moodiness. It could also lead to amnesia, but that’s less likely in Cas’s case.” 

“That’s good to know,” Dean said. “Thanks, man,” he added to Kevin. “And it’s totally ok for people with concussions to sleep?” 

Kevin looked at him as if he were crazy. “Yeah, dude. That thing about going into a coma is a total myth! It’s actually surprising he’s sleeping. Most people have a lot of problems.” 

“Problems with what?” Cas came in with a yawn, lightly rubbing his eyes as he shuffled toward them all. 

“Sleeping. While having a concussion,” Kevin told him. 

Cas gave a nod and looked at them all seriously. “Yes, that is very true. Many people can be affected for years afterward.” It was Kevin’s turn to nod then. And then Cas smiled and leaned into Dean, wrapping his arms loosely around his waist. 

Dean’s cheeks were on fire again, with the added benefit of his ears joining on the shame. While both Sam and Kevin exchanged knowing looks, Dean just decided to ignore them completely and give Cas a pat on the back. “Who’s hungry?” he asked. 

Cas was off of him in an instant, eyes gleaming. “I want coffee,” he told them all, which sent Sam into laughter. They followed him into the kitchen, except Dean who lagged behind and took a detour to the bunker’s basement. 

*****

“Alright, you British bastard. Get your ass down here,” Dean muttered as he lit the contents of the bowl. A proof of red smoke appeared and when it cleared, Crowley was there. 

“You know, you could’ve called.” 

Dean rolled his eyes. “No, because then you wouldn’t have had to poof into the devil’s trap. I’m not an idiot,” he snapped. 

Crowley sighed and narrowed his eyes. “What is it you summoned me for, Dean? I haven’t got all day. I’ve got deals to make, souls to collect, people to kill. You know, because I’m the King of Hell?” 

“Yeah, alright, just shut up,” Dean told him. The demon glared at him a moment before giving a crooked smile, as if ready for business. “It’s about Cas.” 

“Oh, joy,” Crowley dropped his smile and frowned. “Let me guess, you want me to restore his grace? I can’t.” 

“What? You know about that?” asked Dean in shock. If the demons knew about Heaven being closed, what did that mean for the brothers. 

“Of course I know about that, squirrel,” Crowley mocked. “Angels falling to earth? The amount of energy it creates is tremendous, not something easily missed. Unless you’re human,” he said it as if it were an insult. “As I said, I cannot restore an angel’s grace. Are we done here?” 

“No,” Dean said quickly. “Look, Kevin found some spell in the angel tablet that can restore an angel’s wings.” 

“Oh, God,” Crowley growled out impatiently. “Do you have any idea what an idiotic plan that is? You’ll likely kill him faster,” he snapped. “Honestly, don’t you know anything about angel anatomy, Dean? Wings are massive, ginormous. You put those things on a human and they’ll be destroyed. Especially with the puny vessel your pet has.” 

“Can it, and listen!” Dean finally exclaimed. “I know about that, Cas told me. I brought it up because I wanna know if you could find a way to get him more time.” 

“I can get him more time. But it’ll cost,” Crowley was quick to agree at the prospect of getting another soul. 

“Screw you. I’m not making a deal with you,” Dean argued in a rush. “You can have anything else. But not a deal.” 

Crowley smirked and began to pace in the confines of his trap, tapping the tips of his fingers together. “Anything, you say?” 

And Dean found his mistake, but it couldn’t be taken back now. He should’ve known Crowley would jump on the chance for anything (especially with the endless knowledge the bunker possessed). 

“Well, you drive a hard bargain, Winchester,” Crowley told him. “I suppose I will accept your offer of anything in return for more time to your toy.” 

Dean cringed at the word, but said nothing. 

“In exchange for extra life on Cas, I think I will be taking a vial of your blood,” decided Crowley. 

Dean narrowed his eyes. “For what?” he asked. 

“You said nothing about asking questions in our agreement. A vial of your blood for the angel, or the deal is off,” argued Crowley. 

Dean hated the smarmy Brit. He wished he’d never called him in the first place. “Fine. You do your half first,” he said. Crowley gave a nod and snapped his fingers. 

“All done. Now, the blood, Dean,” he reached out with a hand. The hunter grabbed a knife and a small vial, slicing into his arm and filling the bottle before handing it over to the demon. “Nice doing business with you.” 

And Crowley disappeared in another cloud of red smoke. “Son of a bitch,” Dean muttered. The bastard could’ve left at any time. He took his time to gather the things he’d used to summon him and clean. 

*****

“Dean! I think Gabriel is ready to be released!” Cas exclaimed in excitement as the bird hopped around the bunker table and chirped happily. 

“Will he be alright in the wild?” Sam asked him nervously, noting the unusual way the bird wasn’t afraid of them. 

“Yes. I did everything correctly. And I taught you exactly how to care for him. He should be able to leave today or tomorrow,” Cas explained. 

“What’re we waiting for, then? Let’s go get rid of him,” Dean said. “He can fly now, why keep him?” He wanted to punch himself (even if it was sarcasm, Cas never got his humor).

And sure enough, the former angel gave him a sad look. 

“He was joking, Cas. It was sarcasm,” Sam stuck up for him, which surprised him beyond belief. 

“Sorry, man. I forget you don’t get the sarcasm,” Dean said quickly. “Let’s just go see how he does outside. If he doesn’t like it, we can always keep him. He is kind of entertaining, and joins in our fights.” 

“Cool bird in my book,” Sam added with a grin. Dean rolled his eyes and smiled back. Cas picked up the nest and followed behind the brothers. Sam opened the door and they took Gabriel outside once again. 

As soon as the sun hit his feathers, he was off. His wings flapped quickly as he took off to the nearest tree and sang. “They grow up so fast,” Dean joked. 

“Oh, look. More sparrows,” Sam pointed out happily. “They like him.” 

It somehow warmed Cas’s heart to see the little bird be welcomed back so easily. He absently wondered if that would happen for him (though after his debacle with Metatron, the thought was quickly squashed). 

Still, it was a welcoming sight to see the other sparrows gather.


	16. Day Sixteen - “Window(s)”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Super sorry about not posting, but I lost internet for two days!   
> Today I WILL be posting three chapters (the one from Thursday, yesterday, and today), but not at the same time.   
> Enjoy!

Prompt a Day #16

“For twenty days in, Cas looks good,” said Sam when Cas and Kevin had gone inside to make food. The brothers idly watched the sparrows flutter around, no longer knowing which one was Gabriel. 

Dean crossed his arms at the words. “Yeah,” he said with a shrug. “Like a brand new guy, almost. Hospital did good for him, I guess.” 

He’d gotten more time for Cas from Crowley. But he’d been thinking more on how awful of a deal he’d made. He had never specified how much more time, so of course Crowley would jump on that. He had been an idiot. 

“Seems different,” Sam spoke up. “I mean, more than just a hospital visit. He’s got more energy all of a sudden. The guy practically ran to get you and release Gabriel.” 

“Well, he did raise that thing from like birth,” Dean pointed out. “I’m shocked he didn’t cry and beg us to get him a dog or something.” It was a joke, but even Dean could obviously tell it was an aversion. 

Sam looked over at him with concern. “What’s wrong, man? We’re gonna find a way to fix all of this,” he told him. 

“Really? Doesn’t seem like it,” Dean argued, though his voice was stoic. “All we’ve been doing is sitting on our asses making him feel better by helping him with the stupid bird. He’s dying, dammit, and other than the one thing in the angel tablet we’ve done nothing to find some other way,” he went on. “It’s just the same shit every day, you know?” 

Sam’s worry for his brother grew. “We can do this. Cas can do this,” he said. “I think it’s good we took a break from hunting, not even just because of Cas. I needed one, you needed one.” Dean didn’t bother looking at him. “Maybe we should travel. Go see stuff. Haven’t you always wanted to see the Grand Canyon?” 

His brother rolled his eyes at the suggestion. “That was a joke, Sam. I’ve seen everything this stupid place has to offer. I’ve been to the four corners, I’ve been to the Grand Canyon, and the Smokey’s, and the Rocky’s. I nearly drowned in the Mississippi River. I’ve hunted at the Great Lakes. Hell, I’ve been to NASA, both Disney’s, and the Smithsonian.” 

“Dude, seriously? Where was I during all that?” Sam asked in surprise. 

“College,” Dean snapped. 

“Oh,” was all Sam managed. “Did - uh - did dad go with you?” 

Dean let out a scoff and then frowned. “No. That first night you left was fucked. Dad called me a fuck up for not being able to stop you, and he told me I was a piece of shit for wanting to take a break and do stuff,” he explained. “I sightsaw on my own. The Great Lakes turned out to be a hunt, but everything else was because I fucking wanted to. And when I went back home -“ he stopped and shook his head, a flash of fear in his eyes. 

The wind rustled swiftly through the grass and blew its song through the trees. The birds nearby were chirping happily. 

“I’m really sorry, man,” Sam finally broke the silence. “I never knew about anything. I never even knew what dad did to make you do everything he wanted.” 

“You still don’t,” Dean retorted. It took Sam by surprise, because he had always known his brother. He felt lost knowing all the things he did himself, and all the punishments he earned for it. 

Sam thought on what to say, but his mind seemed suddenly blank. And the wind was starting to grow fierce and send a chill into his bones. “We should head in before we get caught in the storm.” 

“Yeah. I’ll meet you in a sec,” Dean waved him off and stood (because it was odd that the storm from two days before was returning to them). Sam hesitated a moment before deciding better on forcing his brother inside. Dean was stubborn enough on a good day (and today was not good). 

Dean watched as the clouds billowed into ink-black forms, electricity coursing in the air. This didn’t seem like a normal storm at all, and the hunter wanted to know what was causing it. 

A hand on his forearm made him turn to find the anxious eyes of Cas. “Dean, please come inside!” he exclaimed with worry, tugging slightly where he held on. Dean turned back to stare at the clouds again, but slowly started stepping toward the bunker door. 

And for some reason he wished the bunker had windows. 

*****

Even though Sam gave him odd looks for saying it, Dean was still hiding out in the Impala. He’d pulled it into the garage yesterday, since his poor Baby was hardly used. 

He didn’t turn the car on, just sat and listened to the silence. It was comforting but also made him antsy. He hated being left alone with his thoughts, but he wasn’t planning on going back inside to get headphones to drown them out.  
So he stayed firmly planted in the leather seat. 

He almost didn’t notice Cas making his way toward him, until he was right beside the car and reaching to open the door. “Hello, Dean,” he greeted. 

It was something so familiar that Dean’s heart suddenly ached. “Hey.”

“May I join you?” asked Cas cautiously, looking unsure. 

Dean chuckled and motioned him inside. “Of course, Cas.” 

The former angel slid into the backseat (snugly beside Dean) and closed the door. Dean threw an arm around his shoulders and pulled him close, no hesitation in his actions. Cas smiled and leaned into the touch. 

“May I ask what is bothering you?” questioned Cas softly. Dean knew he was only asking because he was worried, but that didn’t stop the wave of annoyance that went through him. “Talking may help relieve the burden.” 

Dean dropped his head slightly. “It’s not that important. Just a bunch of little things, no big deal,” he said. He fingers idly marked circles on the skin of Cas’s shoulder. He longed to revisit the moment they had shared yesterday (this time he hoped not to shy away from Cas’s touch). 

Cas hummed quietly in acknowledging and tilted his head up to meet Dean’s gaze. “Is there something else on your mind?” he wondered innocently. The way Dean’s pupils widened was enough to let him know where this may be going. 

He pulled Dean into a kiss, and then let him take over from there. The desperation from the first time was suddenly back, taking ahold of Dean’s mind (he was already drunk on Cas’s taste). 

And Cas lied back against the leather seat, Dean following him down as he hovered above him. 

Then he pressed himself against Cas and reveled in the way their bodies slotted together perfectly. 

And (fuck) Dean was getting a hard on from making out, like he was a teenager all over again. Although if the thing pressing against him was what he thought, then he wasn’t alone. 

Dean’s heart went wild when Cas let out a pleasurable sigh that stuttered into a groan. He couldn’t believe he’d been the one to pull something like that out of the angel, but he wanted more. 

(This was not how he had wanted their first time together to happen). 

Dean pulled away suddenly, panting, and left Cas’s hands empty. The former angel looked confused for a moment, propping himself up on his elbows. “What is it? Are you alright?” 

Dean gave a nod and steadied himself. “I’m great. But I can’t - not here. Not like this,” he told him. Cas seemed to understand what he meant and gave a nod.

“Of course,” he said. Dean was his own cockblock, and he hated it. Still, he knew he would be thankful later on. He watched Cas as his eyes wondered over to the car’s window.


	17. Day Seventeen - “Home Is...”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second chapter today to make up for yesterday!   
> Today’s chapter will be up closer to midnight

Prompt a Day #17

Today marked twenty-two days of Cas being nothing but a human. And he still looked good, and was eating (at least a bit). His pupils were finally even again (though the doctor said his headaches from the concussion may continue for awhile) and his hair was growing back. 

Even though the bald patches were still there, they were healing well. The burns on Cas’s arms were also slowly disappearing as the skin closed itself up. 

And yet Dean couldn’t help but wonder how much time Crowley had given him. For all he knew, the demon had decided to extend Cas’s life forever (which was unlikely) or he’d given the former angel a few extra minutes (which was highly likely). 

Either way meant bad news. Too long, and Cas would watch them all die (of course as an angel that would’ve happened too, except he could visit them in Heaven). Too short and Cas would die before they could discover another way to help him (though, like Dean had said, they’d been researching nothing). 

It was a no-win scenario. The ultimate Kobayashi Maru. Dean hated it as much as he could, given that Crowley hadn’t cursed him with his blood (as far as he knew). 

Currently, Dean was alone in his room. After the make-out session in the Impala two days ago, he was still less than eager to see Cas (mostly because he’d almost cummed in his pants just from kissing the guy). Not to mention, he had almost soiled his precious Baby (it was different with Anna, he didn’t count her like he did Cas). 

Sam had disappeared somewhere in the bunker hours ago, along with Kevin. They were probably comparing hard drives (or whatever nerds did). 

A knock on his door halted his thoughts and filled his mind with anxiety. He wasn’t sure he could handle if it were Cas (because what if he was dying suddenly), but he also didn’t want it to be Sam or Kevin (because they might say nothing could help restore Cas’s strength). 

He opened the door nonetheless and peered out at Cas, heart leaping into his throat. The guy looked fine, he looked healthy (for the most part) and his skin wasn’t pale. 

“Sam wished for me to let you know that he and Kevin have left the bunker for the day,” Cas told him. 

“What? Where’d they go?” Dean asked in an instant, already worried for his little brother. 

Cas thought for a moment. “He didn’t specify. All he said was that they were leaving to find something,” he finally said. 

Dean let out a soft breath (the worry in his mind urged him to call, to check up and make sure Sammy was alright, make sure he wasn’t in danger). “Ok. Thanks for letting me know, I guess,” he said. 

Cas gave a nod, but remained standing at the door. Dean was unsure of what to do, he wasn’t sure he could do this. The terror was too much, and his hands were trembling where the rested behind his back (that way Cas couldn’t see them). 

“Dean,” Cas started, taking what seemed to be a steadying breath. And he dropped his gaze to the floor before continuing. “I know that our... relationship has changed recently. But I would like you to know that I appreciate the effort you are putting into this to share this part of yourself with me. And I want you to know that no matter what happens between us, I will always be your friend first.” 

Dean had no idea how to respond to the words, but apparently Cas wasn’t done. 

“Oh, and I completely understand if you don’t want to have sex with me. I know that, too, is different for you, so I am in no sense going to force you into anything of that nature,” he spit the words out in a rush that Dean could barely make out. It was as if the words forced their way out of him by themselves. 

And Dean once again floundered for what to say. “Uh - I - I... What?” It was the most eloquent he had ever been in his life (and dammit if his cheeks weren’t burning away). 

Cas looked up at him nervously. “I just mean that nothing has to happen between us until you want it to. I am much more inexperienced than you in this regard, but you have also never been in a relationship... like this.” 

Dean stared at him blankly. He racked his brain for something to say, anything that might make Cas feel slightly better about this awkward subject. “Thanks - I guess,” was what he finally settled on. It was stupid, but it worked out in his favor because Cas gave a soft smile (and that sent heat right to Dean’s groin, despite his tension). 

He wanted to close the door, to do something about the situation he was having (denim could only hide this for so long. And since when was he a horny teenager again?). He found he couldn’t move, though, and he became increasingly frustrated at the intense look in Cas’s eyes (because that did something to him he had never experienced before). 

“I’m gonna... shut the door now,” Dean finally strangled out through his tight jaw and moved behind the door. Thankfully, Cas didn’t think to ask why he was being so distant. But immediately guilt set in, and he opened the door once more to pull him inside. 

*****

“What are we looking for exactly?” Sam asked Kevin again, looking over his shoulder at the notes. 

“Anything about angel wings or vessel modifications,” Kevin answered. “I doubt a library is gonna have anything like that.” 

Sam nodded and clicked his tongue. “We can at least look for books on angels in general. I’ll check it out, you stay here and claim this table.” 

Though they both had already spread everything over the top, so Kevin doubted anyone would try to sit there. Still, he gave a thumbs up and cracked open the book they had brought from the bunker (some ancient Somalian text that he could somehow understand). 

Sam took off to a computer to look through the database this library offered. He hoped dearly that they could find something. 

*****

Dean couldn’t help but want to cry at this entire thing (after all, loving someone was weakness and he couldn’t be weak). 

But he needed (wanted) to be closer to Cas. And this time, when Cas’s hand slid up his shirt, he didn’t flinch away. He leaned into the touch, enjoying the feeling of the warmth in his hands. 

And when Cas lifted his shirt, he pulled away to throw it to the floor. He was instantly self-conscious, wanting the shirt back to hide his love handles and the extra weight he carried there. But Cas didn’t even notice (though he did, but said nothing). His hands traced lightly over Dean’s sun-kissed skin, leaving more heat where they went. 

He was gentle, and knew what to do despite his inexperience (somehow Dean suspected the former angel had done his research before telling him anything). 

Dean let out a gasp when Cas’s hands suddenly dipped below his waist and swept over the growing bulge in his jeans. 

And Dean swore that this feeling was exactly how home is.


	18. Day Eighteen - “Sacrifice”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haha prepare to hate me

Prompt a Day #18

Dean would be lying if he said this wasn’t amazing. Cas’s steady hands anywhere on him was enough to send him into overdrive. 

Cas had only touched his cock once, but Dean wished he’d go lower again. They were both shirtless now, and still the contact still wasn’t enough for Dean’s frantic mind (it begged him for more, made him do things he would never dream of, like start unbuttoning Cas’s pants). 

Neither of them seemed to be in control of their actions at this point. Both of them were stuck in their basest instincts, to make their partner feel good. 

And they shared the feeling, and even if Cas did cum first, there was no embarrassment or shame. There was only love and acceptance. 

And when Dean finally climaxed, Cas couldn’t help but stare at the beauty of his hunter. Because Dean was his now, it was real. 

*****

The phone rang. And Dean jumped awake to answer it. 

“Dean, so get this!” Sam exclaimed before Dean could even say a greeting. “Kevin and I went off to find some books on angel lore or anything we thought might remotely be helpful.” 

“Is there a point to this?” asked Dean irritably, angry at being woken up from his post-sex nap (and the realization that he’d kind of had sex with Cas hit him). 

“Shut up,” Sam said. “We found something. Well, Kevin did. In this old tome that I could read because it’s in Somalian, and Cas’s angelness is gone. Apparently being a prophet lets you read ancient literature!” He was excited, like a little kid at Christmas. 

“What did you guys find?” 

Sam cleared his throat, and rifled through some of the papers. “It’s a spell. Kevin read in the angel tablet that if a vessel is properly modified, it can handle the weight of an angel’s wings,” he said. “Well, this spell tells us how to do that!” 

Dean was speechless for all of three seconds. “What’s the catch?” he asked. 

Sam gave a heavy sigh. “Why’d you have to ask that?” 

“Because I’m me. There’s no positive repercussions of a spell,” Dean told him. 

Sam hummed slightly (likely because he was impressed Dean knew such a big word). “Fair point. The catch is that it requires a sacrifice. It doesn’t specify if it needs to be human, but Kevin is still making sure he didn’t miss anything.” 

“Fuck,” groaned Dean in annoyance. “Why is it always that killing something fixes shit?” he asked him. “Wait, no, don’t answer that. I don’t even want to know.” 

Sam couldn’t help but laugh despite the situation. “That’s about how I feel too. We’re gonna pick some stuff up for the spell, so we can start when we get back. Sound good?” 

Dean went over the idea in his head. “It’ll have to do. Hurry back,” he finally said. 

Sam gave an affirmative noise before handing up. Dean was left with silence while Cas showered and he turned back onto his side. 

He could no longer sleep, too much was going on his head. Too many thoughts swirled around aimlessly, going nowhere and everywhere at the same time. 

*****

“Are you sure about this?” Cas wondered when Sam had finished setting everything up. 

“Yeah. Kevin checked it four times. It should work perfect,” Sam assured. “Plus, you’ll basically be a superhero. And you’ll be able to fly... I think.” He looked to Kevin. 

“Some do, some don’t. It depends on the vessel and the angel’s wings,” Kevin admitted with a slight shrug. “Either way, you’ll survive. And you won’t be in pain by getting the wings.” 

Cas looked between them, and then finally turned to look at Dean. “What about the sacrifice?” 

Kevin exchanged a nervous look with Sam before answering. “That’s the tricky part. The spell doesn’t specify, but most spells work best with a human sacrifice.” 

Cas immediately shook his head. “Then I am not doing this. I refuse to allow any of you to do this.” 

“Fuck you! It’s not just about you anymore, Cas!” exclaimed Dean passionately, hands balled into fists. “This is about all of us, too.” 

Cas gulped and dropped his gaze to the floor (he was standing in the middle of an intricate symbol Sam had painted with lamb’s blood). “I still don’t like it.” 

“You don’t have to,” Dean argued. “Let’s start. We’ll figure out the sacrifice later.” 

Kevin gave a nod and handed Sam the paper. He had translated it into Enochian, so that the younger Winchester could say it easily. 

It wasn’t long, but it also didn’t seem to be doing much. When Sam finished he looked to Kevin for the plan. 

“Sacrifice time,” Kevin announced hesitantly. He looked between the brothers with a nervous energy. 

“I’ll do it,” Dean claimed. Both Kevin and Sam had known he would volunteer. 

“No,” Cas asserted immediately. “No, Dean. Please.” 

Dean looked to him and gave him a sad look. “I have to, Cas. It’s you.” 

Sam handed his brother the curved knife that Kevin had sanctified in holy water earlier. And then he turned away, unable to watch as Dean plunged the weapon into his heart.

While a noble one, this was what Sam could not watch. And Cas yelling in fear as Dean collapsed did nothing to help him. 

He wished there didn’t need to be a sacrifice.


	19. Day Nineteen - “A Sunny Spot”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haha

Prompt a Day #19

A blue glow overtook Cas’s body, winding around him and fading into his skin. 

“It worked,” Kevin said firmly, tears in his eyes and voice unsteady. 

Cas immediately dropped to his knees at Dean’s side and gently patted his face. “Dean, please, no,” he whispered in despair. 

Sam joined him a moment later, sobbing, and called out to his brother. “Dean.” 

Kevin dropped the papers in his hands and knelt beside them, watching the fallen hunter. He prayed desperately for him to come back, to open his eyes again. 

But Dean was still and silent. 

And for the first time since he’d been created, Cas let out anguished cries. His hunter was gone, his hunter was dead. His vision went blurry as the tears spilled, and he found he could barely breathe. 

His arms wrapped around his chest, pulling him closer and sobbing into his shoulder. 

It was the worst sound Sam had ever heard. 

*****

Sam absolutely refused to burn Dean’s body. Somehow, he would get his brother back. 

For now, he was being watched by Kevin and Cas as he lied on the bed in the guest room. No one could bare to put him in his own bed, it seemed too final. 

Cas had finally managed to stop crying (mostly because he was dehydrated from losing so much water) but still wouldn’t look at Dean’s body. Kevin hadn’t spoken a word to anyone after the spell had finished. 

He was still praying, and still hoping that somehow the hunter would sit up as good as new. His life would be a sunny spot in the awful day. But he didn’t. And eventually Kevin gave up on trying. 

Cas stared at the floor of the room, wishing he had his grace back so he could heal him. He dearly wanted his hunter back, he needed him. 

As if his willing was enough, Dean bolted upright gasping for air. Both Cas and Kevin stared in disbelief, unable to move from the shock. 

“What!?” Kevin finally exclaimed, eyes wide. “Are you ok!? What the hell happened!?” He was up and at Dean’s side, looking him over. 

Cas stood up much slower than Kevin. If he moved too fast this would fade, he knew it. Dean ignored Kevin’s questions and flew at Cas, pulling him into a rough hug (both of his hands went around Cas’s shoulders, so he could feel the other’s hands at his sides again). 

Cas grabbed on and held for dear life, his breathing ragged. “I thought - I saw you leave, Dean. I don’t understand.” 

Dean pulled away with a frown. “I don’t get it either. Someone get Sam, so I don’t have to say the same thing three different times,” he said. Kevin gave a nod and hurried off to find him. 

Cas’s eyes welled with tears again, this time of joy at having his hunter back. He cupped Dean’s cheek and tilted his head up. 

Dean met his mouth without hesitation. The kiss burned with Cas’s hunger. When he pulled away, Cas took a steadying breath to ground himself and his frantic mind. This was real. 

Sam rushed in from around the corner and herded Dean into a hug. He clung to him, tucking his head into his brother’s shoulder and taking immense comfort in his warmth. 

“Alright, alright,” Dean finally said. He pulled away and gave Sam a final clap on his arm. 

“What happened? How - I mean - how?” Sam asked with concern. He was glad his brother was back, but still wanted to know how. 

Dean paused until everyone took a seat around the room. “Funny story. Apparently the spell we used only needs a temporary sacrifice. As in, it brings them back to life.” 

“That’s fucked up,” Kevin blurted out. Dean and Sam looked at him sternly for using the word, but he gave no indication of guilt. “Well, it is!” 

“Wait, so, where were you then?” Sam asked. 

“I’m not sure,” admitted Dean. “The only reason I know is because Death came to bring me back.” 

Cas raised his eyebrows. “Death? As it one of the four Horsemen?” 

Dean nodded. “Believe me, I was a surprised as you. I asked what the hell was going on, and he told me the spell worked successfully and that the sacrifice it takes isn’t permanent.” 

“Why?” asked Kevin. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad you’re back! But I wonder why it wouldn’t mention that in the book.” 

“It does seem strange,” Cas agreed. “Though, the book is old. Maybe they didn’t wait long enough to know that the sacrifice would return to them.” 

“That could be likely,” Sam mused, thinking about the whole thing. “Either way, I’m really happy this happened. We helped Cas and Dean ended up not really dying. Win win.” 

“So next is to get Cas his wings?” Dean wondered, glancing over at him. Cas nodded in agreement and they all turned to Kevin who seemed lost in thought. 

“Kevin? Buddy, you ok there?” Dean stepped toward him and reached out. Before he could touch the boy, he sprung to his feet. 

“I remember now!” he shouted. “The book mentioned something about a Bible verse,” he went on. “It was Psalm fifty-one, seventeen.” 

“My sacrifice, O God, is a broken spirit; a broken and contrite heart you, God, will not despise,” Cas recited with no hesitation. 

“I didn’t think much of it since it was just scribbled in the margins,” Kevin admitted with a hint of shame. 

“But what does that mean?” Dean wondered, still confused. 

“I think it means if the sacrifice is true and good, they will be brought back,” Sam spoke up. At that, Cas gave a smile and nodded in agreement. 

“Alright,” Kevin declared. “It’s time to get Cas his wings back!” 

They followed him to the basement to get the angel tablet. It turned out that today really was a sunny spot.


	20. Day Twenty - “Rise”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wish I had a better excuse but I’m a piece of shit and fell asleep early yesterday (super sorry guys)  
> Any, I am taking prompts at this time so if you’d like a one shot written by myself let me know  
> The second chapter (for today) will be up later on!

Prompt a Day #20

Cas was nervous beyond belief as Kevin recited the spell to get his wings back. 

The wings would be like a beacon to anything (demons, angels, shapeshifters, and plenty of other things). It was terrifying to think he may bring harm to his family just from trying to survive. 

Still, with the warding in the bunker, the spell should be confined to the inside of it (not that Cas wasn’t worried). And as Kevin finished the reading, everyone watched Cas with wide eyes. 

“Did it work?” he asked, not wanting to turn and risk the wings not being atop his shoulders. 

“Holy shit,” Sam and Dean exclaimed at the same time, mouths hanging open. At their reaction, Cas craned his head. 

And saw the obsidian wings resting there. They glimmered with an inhuman blue glow. Cas could’ve cried in relief if not for the bunker’s alarms suddenly going off. 

They covered their ears as the red lights flashed, and Sam took off to the control room to shut off the racket. Only a few moments later, the alarm died and the lights returned to normal. 

“It worked,” Kevin remarked. It was a late reaction to Cas’s earlier question, but also an astonished observation. 

“I thought you said they weren’t big, Cas. These are fucking enormous!” Dean said in awe, stepping forward. Sam was back now and following after his brother. 

Cas inspected what he could see and frowned. “Yes, the length is rather upsetting. My primaries will collect dust if they drag like this,” he pointed out solemnly. He folded them in as close to his body as he could, but the outermost primaries still touched the bunker floor. 

“How does it feel?” Kevin asked. “Any pain or discomfort?” 

Cas tried to stretch the wings out to their full length, but had to stop halfway when the tips touched the walls, and pulled them in quickly. “No pain. Though I’d like more room to be sure.” 

Dean couldn’t take his eyes off the wings and the perfect way they folded and bent. These wings had carried him out of Hell all those years ago. 

As Cas followed after Kevin and Sam, Dean lagged behind to admire them (these pure things had saved him and he couldn’t believe that Cas would risk tarnishing such beauty). 

When they arrived in the main room, Cas again stretched the wings out, and up above his head. Dean’s mind provided him with the image of shadows against the wall of the barn, when he’d first met the angel. 

“Wow, Cas. I can’t believe this,” Sam laughed out happily. “It’s amazing! Your wings are amazing.” 

Cas’s frown deepened under the praise and he let out a disgruntled sigh. The brothers exchanged a glance. 

“What’s wrong, Cas?” asked Dean with worry. 

Kevin squinted, looking close at the wings that Cas had pulled tight to his back too soon. “You’re... missing feathers.” 

Cas looked at him with shame. “They are unacceptable in this state, Kevin. I won’t be able to fly with them in this condition.”

And Dean suddenly saw what Kevin had. They were ragged. They still glowed with power and shimmered in the light, but they were somehow dull. And many of the feathers he should have were gone. When they were tucked away, it was almost impossible to tell.

“Cas... is that from - from her?” Dean wondered suddenly, realization dawning. Cas dropped his head and nodded sadly. 

“The mind control from her on top of what I put myself through in Purgatory. As well as the hair pulling from earlier,” he admitted. 

“Wait, you pulling out your hair did this to your wings?” Sam questioned. “How does that work?” 

Cas shuffled his feet. “When an angel self-mutilates, it’s not just what you can see physically. Even being apart from my wings and my grace, they both felt the pain the same as my physical body did.” 

Kevin grimaced at the words. “So, they get pulled out, too?” 

Cas gave another nod. Dean felt like the breath had been knocked out of him. “What about the burns? Cas when you -“ he stopped before his voice broke. 

The angel turned his sad gaze back to his hunter. “Yes, Dean. That would transfer as well.” 

Dean sat down heavily, eyes dropping to the floor. He couldn’t bare to see Cas like this, his beautiful angel all torn up. The image of Cas burning himself (and his wings in the process) would forever be imprinted in his mind. 

“But, they’ll heal?” Sam wondered softly. 

“Yes,” Cas agreed. “New feathers will rise to repair the old ones. Though, it may be difficult without my grace,” he added. One of the wings reached forward and Cas set a hand on top of what was left of his converts. It pained him to see his wings in such ragged condition, but it pained him more to know he’d done this himself. 

And now Dean knew, and Cas feared he may never look or speak to him again. It was a harsh thought, but one he knew he must be prepared for. 

“Kevin, do you think you could find a spell to cloak my wings?” Cas turned to the young prophet. 

“Oh, I meant to tell you about that!” he answered. “I already found one, but I wasn’t sure if you’d want to do it.” 

“Not yet,” Dean stood and told them. “Cloak them later.... just not yet,” he repeated. Cas stared at the side of his face, wondering why the hunter would want to spend another second looking at the abominations he called wings. 

“Sam and I will get all the stuff ready. For tonight. Or tomorrow?” Kevin looked to Dean for his answer, but he just gave a nod and then herded Cas away. 

*****

“Dean, you don’t have to do this,” Cas pleaded with guilt as he pulled away from him. 

Dean grabbed his arm and pulled him back to sit on the bed. “Shut up and let me do this, dammit,” he snapped. He couldn’t understand why he wanted to do this for the angel, but for some reason his brain urged him on. 

Cas gulped and sat down. He spread one wing wide and cringed at the state it was in. He could see Dean’s hands trembling as he reached out and ran his hands along the few feathers he had to straighten them out. 

“I’m sorry you have to see them like this,” said Cas. “When I raised you from perdition, they were-“ 

“I know,” Dean interrupted. “And don’t... be sorry. Just let me do this.” 

Cas simply nodded in understanding. 

And Dean continued in his strange demand of grooming the massive wings. It was a task that made his arms ache after awhile, but he didn’t complain once. Cas could see that doing this signaled something deep within his hunter. Something he didn’t think that Dean would ever let rise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is written specifically for Castibella_Shipper_of_the_Lord and muchosagnst because they keep me going with all their comments   
> So thanks to those two


	21. Day Twenty One - “Something Changed”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kind of a longer chapter today  
> Enjoy

Prompt a Day #21

Everyone agreed it was best to do the spell in the morning. The events of the day had tired them all out (especially thinking Dean had died), and Cas was ready for rest. 

“Now that you have your wings back, are you technically an angel again?” asked Dean as he lied beside Cas in the bed. 

Cas seemed to mull over the question. “I’m not sure. Technically the grace is what gives an angel their powers, but the wings are a part of us as well. I don’t feel any different.” 

Dean reached out an arm and ran his fingertips along the tendon that allowed Cas to stretch them out. “Is there pain? Not to your vessel, but...” he trailed off. 

Cas gave a soft sigh and latched onto Dean’s hand, lacing their fingers. “Not anymore. The most painful feeling was having them ripped away when we fell. Even if I didn’t necessarily fall... It has the same effect.” He brought the hunter’s hand to his lips and gently kissed the palm. “I’m glad.” 

“Glad? About what?” asked Dean, eyes going wide. He propped himself up on his other arm and stared down at the other. “Not about this.” 

“Not about my wings, no,” Cas agreed. “About the grace. About you. I never would have experienced this if I had remained an angel,” he admitted. “Not in the same way.” 

Dean studied him with a neutral expression. “What do you mean?” 

Cas dropped his hand and looked up at him, meeting his eyes. “I fell because of you, Dean Winchester. Many may see that as an abomination, but for me it was the most beautiful thing to happen. You taught me to feel in ways I never thought possible. You taught me what it meant to laugh and love. 

“But with my grace, there was always a part of me that refused that love. Like if I acknowledged the feelings I was having for you, it would somehow make me a burden.” 

“A burden? How could you ever think you’re a burden on us, man?” Dean wondered, eyebrows knitting together in concern. 

Cas gave a bitter laugh. “I released Leviathan unto this world. I abandoned you in Purgatory. I nearly killed you when Naomi had me. I brought Sam back soulless! How is that not being a burden?” 

Dean clicked his tongue and gently ran his hand through Cas’s hair (it was soft to the touch). “Because you always made up for it. You never gave up. You always fixed it.” 

Cas couldn’t help but roll his eyes. “I fixed the problems I created in the first place,” he said. “You are the better of us, Dean. You always have been.” 

The hunter stared for a moment before letting out a scoff. “Really? I’m better? The guy who jump started the apocalypse? The guy who tortured souls in Hell? I let Lucifer take over my brother, I let him kill you and Bobby. And then had the audacity to give up and live some normal, apple-pie-life.” His words were full of disgust. 

“Have you never wondered why my father chose you as the Righteous Man?” Cas suddenly asked. 

“I wonder that all the fucking time, Cas. I’m poison, man. All I do is hurt everyone around me,” Dean spat. 

Cas shook his head and brought him into a soft kiss. “No. Dean, you are the purest human being I have ever come across, in all my millennium of existence.” 

He could tell Dean disregarded the words as soon as they reached his ears. Cas wished there was some way to prove the worth he saw inside this man. 

“You sacrificed yourself to save Sam. You sacrificed yourself to save me. You’re always willing to give up a part of yourself to help others. That is why your soul shines so bright, why you are the Righteous Man. You are nothing but good, Dean. You make mistakes, but you are human. And you learn from them. You never once fought back in that crypt, because you knew that you could somehow get through to me. You could’ve hit me, but you didn’t. You sacrificed yourself to help me. 

“You are always so quick to give, but never take. So willing to help others before yourself, and that is why you are so pure,” Cas guided him into another kiss. 

It was wet. And he realized Dean had tears in his eyes at the praise he’d been offered. 

“Dean,” Cas murmured, moving away a bit. “Tonight, I want to give you everything I am. You are free to take as much of me as you want.” 

Dean’s breath hitched in his throat, but his gaze didn’t waver. 

His calloused hands were gentle on Cas’s arms as he took off his shirt (though he had no idea how he managed to move it past the wings). His eyes were full of terror, but also held something akin to love. 

Dean bent down and left a kiss on Cas’s neck (he wouldn’t dare leave a mark on such a precious being, never). It made the angel shiver. 

His own shirt was next to go, joining Cas’s on the floor. And just like that, something shifted inside the hunter. “Touch me,” he whispered in a broken voice, and Cas happily obliged, sliding his hands along Dean’s arms and over the strong sweep of his shoulders and down the expanse of his back. 

Belts were off, and jeans slide down to the pile beside the bed. Dean’s breathing was already heavy (though Cas suspected it was mostly from his hesitation). 

He watched the hunter for any signs of distress as his hand slid lower, teasing at the elastic of his boxers. Dean gave no protest, but dropped his eyes from Cas’s intense gaze. “May I ask one thing of you, Dean?” 

The hunter gave a single nod. 

“I would like you to look at me,” Cas said softly, stroking a thumb over Dean’s cheek. And his breath stuttered again, but his face lifted until Cas could see his eyes. 

“Is this ok?” Cas asked next, dipping a finger under the elastic. 

Dean bit at his lip, sucking in a sharp breath (they’d done this before, but it had been rushed, and needy. This was different). “M-more,” he managed to say in a halting tone, his eyes desperately trying to dart away from the other’s. 

And Cas obliged. Dean let out a gasp at the contact, his fingers tightening in the sheets beside Cas’s head. It was slow, unhurried and it was amazing. 

“What else can I give you, Dean? What else do you want of me?” Cas wondered sweetly, surging up to meet Dean’s soft moan with a kiss. 

He almost didn’t want to speak, didn’t want to ask so much of the angel below him. But Cas had offered for him to take, to receive, and Dean couldn’t help but want this. “Everything, C-Cas. I want you,” he told him through trembling lips. 

Just like that, Cas’s hand left its spot and he moved so Dean rested below him. “Are you sure this is what you want?” he asked. 

Dean’s answer was to offer him a bottle of lube. 

And Cas obliged. It was strange (Dean had never had anything go in that way), but the angel hit a spot inside him and Dean saw stars. He let out a curse, his hips canting off the bed in his pleasure. 

When Cas pulled away, he was left feeling empty. Which was also strange. 

And (although he was an angel with no sexual experience) he rolled on a condom and poured more lube. 

Dean’s eyes pricked with tears at the sting, but when Cas asked if he wanted to stop he shook his head. This is what he wanted, what he wished for Cas to give. What he wished to take. 

The slide was anything but smooth at first, and it was an uncomfortable feeling. 

But soon, pleasure overtook that feeling of discomfort. And Dean somehow forgot to stay quiet as he called Cas’s name over and over. 

His name fell from moans. They were filthy sounds, but Cas was in love with them. 

Dean could feel that familiar heat pooling in his stomach, which only increased the ecstasy. And when Cas’s hand engulfed him in its warmth, he was done for. 

Cas followed shortly after, just from the sheer intensity of it all. Dean trembled below him, finally closing his eyes and curling into himself. Cas disposed of the condom and wrapped the hunter in his arms. 

“I love you, Dean Winchester,” Cas mumbled in a soothing voice. 

Dean didn’t say a word for a long while, and Cas believed him to be asleep. His breathing had steadied and his head nuzzled down into Cas’s shoulder. 

“Thank you,” he finally told him. And just like that, Cas knew something changed.


	22. Day Twenty Two - “Throes of Spring”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m really sorry guys, I wish I was less of a piece of shit  
> A lot of bad shit came up after my granddad passed so I was dealing with that  
> And then I just got lazy and I’m really sorry but this was all I could accomplish for this chapter  
> I’m planning to have the next one be super long to make up for my mess

Prompt a Day #22

Dean decided he really liked cuddling. And Cas (not that he’d tell anyone about either). 

And he really liked having Cas’s arms and wings wrapped around him, even if the wings were in bad shape, they offered an inhuman warmth. 

He fell asleep peacefully in his angel’s arms. 

Cas, however, couldn’t fall asleep. He wasn’t sure if it was nerves or because he had his wings back. Either way, he was slightly worried. 

He had greatly enjoyed giving Dean everything he had wanted from him, and was sure he had pleased his hunter as well. He wouldn’t dare ask, for fear of Dean shutting down again. 

Still, he wondered how it had been. For him it felt wonderful. It felt right. But would Dean feel the same about what they had shared? It was a concern that would always eat away at Cas’s mind. 

He listened to Dean’s steady breathing, secretly thinking that his face was the calmest he’d ever seen. To Cas, it felt like such a gift to be able to see him at his most vulnerable. 

He realized suddenly that he was in over his head. He knew nothing of human nuances, he still barely understood Dean’s sarcasm (and he’d known him for four years). It was a startling revelation, one that sent Cas careening close to what humans would call an anxiety attack. 

His chest felt tight, but he simply closed his eyes and willed the unbearable feeling away. Of course, that didn’t work and he felt another surge of panic well up in his mind. 

He untangled himself from Dean and climbed to his feet. 

“Wha’s wrong?” asked Dean groggily, his eyes still closed as he reached his hand out in Cas’s general direction. 

Cas couldn’t speak, he motioned to his chest, but of course Dean couldn’t see with his weary eyes unopened. “My -“ his words were cut off by a sudden feeling of pain. Cas collapsed to his knees beside the bed, clutching the fabric at his chest. 

Dean was up in an instant, hurrying to the angel’s side. “Woah, Cas, breath. You’re ok,” he murmured soothingly. His green eyes met Cas’s and the angel suddenly felt grounded again. 

“I’m ok,” he finally spoke. His hand dropped from his shirt and he slumped forward into Dean’s open arms. “My apologies.” 

Dean gently rubbed his back. “Don’t be sorry. That was an anxiety attack, right? Sammy used to get them when we’d leave for hunts. It’s ok to feel overwhelmed,” he said. “But you’ve got me. And Sam and Kevin if you ever need anyone to - to talk to,” he added in a rush. 

Cas closed his eyes and buried his head in Dean’s chest. “I don’t understand. I shouldn’t be feeling,” he mumbled. “With my wings back, I should be an angel again.” 

“So maybe the grace is what changes you,” Dean suggested. “Maybe without the grace you’re just a dude... with wings.” 

Cas didn’t look up at him. He preferred to stay away from Dean’s searching gaze that asked so many questions. Ones he wasn’t prepared to answer. 

“You’re ok now, Cas. We’ve got you. I’ve got you,” continued Dean in a soft voice. It brought the angel comfort to feel the rumble of his hunter’s words against his chest. 

Perhaps Dean was right after all. Perhaps this was only like the throes of spring.


	23. Day Twenty Three - “Feather(s)”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shit starts going down in this one guys   
> In case you were wondering the worst is yet to come   
> Sorry 

Prompt a Day #23

“You’re shedding like a dog,” Sam pointed out one morning a few days later. Cas looked to the ground and gave a frown at the feathers that had drifted to the floor. 

“I’m not surprised. It is almost time for molting. Though I suspect the process may be different with them in such a destroyed state,” he admitted. Somehow, Cas had changed his mind to cloak the wings. At least until molt, as he said.

Dean glanced up at him. “How does it normally work?” 

Cas considered the question for a moment. “Well, I’ve never molted outside of Heaven before. Though it’s been done before, I hear it is harder. Heaven is of course where angels draw most of their power from, which helps in the process. It should not be too much of an issue, since I don’t have my grace.” 

“Grace makes it work differently?” asked Kevin in curiosity, his excitement at learning new things taking hold. 

Cas gave a single nod in return. “Without it my wings are just like a bird. It will work the same way as a fledgling molting his flight feathers,” he said. 

“Really?” questioned Kevin. “That’s cool! How does the grace make it different?” 

Cas couldn’t help but smile at the prophet. “Normally, it would take a few hours at most. Without my grace, it will take a few days. And the new feathers won’t come in with the same color. Grace changes the color of feathers based on experiences.” 

Dean exchanged a look with his brother, wondering what had happened to make Cas’s wings the color they were now. What had given them the pitch color with such a pure blue glow? 

“What does the color mean?” Kevin asked the question they hadn’t dared. 

Cas sucked in a breath. “I’m not sure. Honestly, I’ve only ever been told about the wings changing. Of course I’ve seen them before, but the changes in my wings were very subtle and I barely noticed them.” 

“They’re glowing, Cas. And you didn’t notice that?” Dean wondered. 

Cas gave a sheepish smile and ducked his head. “They’ve done that since I met you in the barn. I believe it signifies my attachment to you.” 

Dean felt the heat rise in his neck and spread to his cheeks. He ignored it and moved to take a sip from his coffee mug. 

“So basically Dean is oblivious,” Sam said with a sly grin. “I mean, obviously Cas was in love with you. Like love at first sight.” 

“Shut it,” Dean snapped. Kevin laughed along with Sam as Cas promptly ignored them and Dean stood to leave. “Bunch of fucking pansies. I’m outta here.” He dropped his mug in the sink on the way out. 

“You’ve upset him,” said Cas. 

Sam shrugged. “Yeah, I do that sometimes. He’s just sensitive to everything anyway,” he said. “And he’s not actually upset, he’s just pretending. He’s probably too shocked to be upset.” 

“What do you mean?” Cas asked while he stared the direction Dean had disappeared to. 

Sam came and sat beside Cas, leaning back against the wall. “I mean, he probably wasn’t expecting you to say what you did. Don’t get me wrong, he’s probably thrilled. But he’s one of those guys that doesn’t handle feelings well, you know that.” 

Cas nodded in agreement. 

“Dad kinda drilled into him that feelings make you weak,” Sam added with a melancholic frown. “I guess he never really got to develop those skills of talking about that stuff because of dad. Just another reason dad sucks.” 

“You shouldn’t speak ill of the dead,” Kevin suddenly said blandly. Sam glanced at him but said nothing as the prophet walked away. “I’m gonna go work on the angle tablet.” 

“Why?” 

Kevin turned to Cas and crossed his arms. “Somehow this doesn’t seem finished. I’m probably just being my typical worried self, but I can’t help that feeling,” he explained with tense words. “So I’m gonna make sure of everything.” 

With that, he left them both. Cas returned his gaze to Sam. “Tell me more about your father.” 

*****

Dean busied himself with picking up every single feather he could find. He wasn’t exactly sure why, but for some reason it felt like a good idea. The ones he found were dull, and didn’t glow with that blue light. 

It made Dean wonder if this meant Cas was right about the grace changing colors of the feathers (not that he doubted the angel, it just seemed absurd). Most of them were ebony, rich and dark. Very few were a golden color, like a hawk’s. 

Curiosity got the better of Dean, and he pulled up his computer to research the meaning of colors. 

Black was the first, since that was the most of what he had found. Of the many meanings he saw, rebellion and death stood out most. Could turning against Heaven be what changed these? 

Next was gold. Courage, compassion, and love stood out among the many meanings. Dean swallowed hard. If the blue glow meant Cas’s attachment to him, the gold must signify the adoration he held for the hunter. 

He searched for blue then, because the glow was something otherworldly and he wanted to know. Loyalty of course was among the list, along with trust, sincerity, piety, faith, and intuition. It seemed Cas had held back on what all the blue glow had entailed (not that Dean was surprised). 

His mind whirled with all the new information when he spotted a single red feather hidden underneath the bed. He bent to pick it up. The feather was extremely soft and delicate, almost as if it would break if held the wrong way. 

Red was the color of anger, Dean knew that much. But he had no idea it could also be stress. 

How could this little feather change without the presence of Cas’s grace? Did this mean he was a full angel after all, or was there something else he’d been hiding?

*****

When Sam’s phone rang and flashed Crowley’s number, he nearly threw it across the room. 

“What do you want, Crowley?” 

“Nice to hear your voice too, moose,” greeted Crowley in his usual holier-than-thou attitude. 

“Don’t waste my time. I’ve got better things to do,” Sam retorted as he paced in the main room of the bunker. Cas had joined Kevin in the kitchen to answer more questions about his wings, so Sam was currently alone. 

Crowley clicked his tongue. “Is that any way to talk to your best friend, Sam?” 

“No, but you’re not my friend,” said Sam without missing a beat. “Why’d you call?” 

Crowley gave a huge sigh. “Always right to the chase,” he sounded annoyed. “It pertains to the spell I did for Dean. Seems something went wrong.” 

“Spell? What spell?” Sam asked, suddenly on high alert. 

“Oops,” Crowley said, not sounding sorry at all. “Point is, a certain red-haired witch ruined the whole damn thing. So unless your pet angel can get his grace back soon, he’ll not be lasting long.” 

“What the hell are you talking about, Crowley?” Sam demanded, his fist clenching at his side. “What spell?” 

“The spell I did for squirrel. Ask him about it if you’re so desperate to know,” Crowley snapped impatiently. “The important thing here is that you tell him my spell is ruined.” 

Sam hung up before the demon could say more and stormed to his brother’s room in anger. He should’ve known Dean would do something like this. Maybe this was the true reason he’d been brought back after Cas’s wings were restored. 

*****

“So how does the flight work?” Kevin wondered. 

“Well, as I’ve said the grace lightens the wings. When we use them for transport, the vessel is transferred into a sort of light, unseen by human eyes,” explained Cas. “It is the only way we are light enough to fly. It is why I cannot fly in this form. This body is simply too heavy.” 

“Is that why dragons can’t exist? Not the monsters, I mean actual flying beasts like from comic books,” Kevin said. 

A small chuckle escaped Cas’s mouth before he could help it. “The monster that Sam and Dean hunted are actually dragons. The ones depicted in comic books are their true forms, when not in enclosed spaces,” he said. “They more closely resemble giant bats. And their wings work in the same kind of way as angels’ actually.” 

Kevin gaped at Cas in shock. He had of course known Sam and Dean had hunted dragons before, but he’d always thought they were purely humans that could breath fire. To find out they were real-life dragons set him on edge. “That’s crazy.” 

Before Cas could say more, shouting rose from the hallway that led to the rooms. 

“That doesn’t sound good,” Kevin muttered unhappily. It seemed all the brothers had been doing lately was fighting about one thing or another. 

Cas frowned and hurried to see what the commotion was. 

“Once again you went behind our backs, Dean!” Sam yelled when Cas and Kevin arrived. 

“That was before I even knew about the other spell, Sam! What was I supposed to do, just let Cas die!? ‘Cause I sure as hell wasn’t about to do that!” Dean snapped back. 

“What’s going on?” Kevin piped up from Cas’s side. 

Both Sam and Dean whirled to face them. “Dean-“ 

“Shut up, Sam!” interrupted the older Winchester. 

“Fuck you!” Sam retorted. “Dean had Crowley cast a spell to give Cas more time! In exchange for his blood!” 

Dean glared at his brother’s head, enraged. Kevin’s eyes widened at the news as his gaze switched to Dean. “Seriously? Dude, why would you ever give a demon your blood?” 

“Because it’s Cas! You telling me you wouldn’t have done the same for your mom? You wouldn’t have done the same for me, Sam!?” His anger returned to his brother. 

Sam glowered down at him. “That’s not what this is about, Dean! It’s about you once again going behind our backs and making a deal with a demon!” 

Dean let out a bitter chuckle and crossed his arms, face full of indignation. “Well, it worked didn’t it? So who the fuck cares anymore?”

“I do, Dean! I trusted you, you’re my brother and you didn’t even tell me! And Crowley said some red-haired witch screwed it up!” Sam exclaimed. “So who knows what’s gonna happen now, all because you couldn’t think ahead.” 

Dean’s anger faded suddenly. “What do you mean, screwed it up?” 

Sam shrugged absently. “That’s what you’re focusing on? Not the fact that you lied to me, again? After all that talk of no more lies?” 

“Sam, shut up for a second. What do you mean it got screwed up?” Dean brushed off the jab and stared at Sam like his life depended on it. 

“I don’t know, ok? Crowley just said Cas won’t be lasting long.” 

Dean dropped his gaze in thought. It was true the deal had been to buy Cas more time, but now that he had his wings back, didn’t that negate that deal? Was there really anything to worry about? 

“Cas, your feathers!” Kevin suddenly burst out in surprise. At the tone, everyone turned to see what was happening with the angel’s feathers.


	24. Day Twenty Four - “All that Glitters”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m trying super hard to finish this because it should’ve been done about a week ago  
> So I am doing these chapters  
> I may not completely finish until tomorrow but I am trying super hard for you guys
> 
> And yes, the ending will be satisfying don’t doubt that

Prompt a Day #24

“Let me get this straight,” Dean interrupted before Crowley could go much further on his monologue. “Some witch made your spell backfire? What does that mean?” 

“If you would listen to me, you’d already know the answer,” Crowley said with impatience. “As I was saying, this red-haired witch made the spell utterly useless. I can’t exactly say what all that entails, but I know it’s backfired. 

“In other words, Cas has less time.” 

Dean rolled his eyes. “We got his wings back. Doesn’t that negate the whole spell?” 

Crowley cleared his throat and motioned one of his demons to hand him a glass of whiskey. “Yes, that would be the most obvious conclusion. Sadly, it isn’t the case. You asked me to get him more time, and I did so without regards to his wings. Therefore, when the spell backfired it also did with without regards to the wings.” He sipped from the glass and urged the demon away. 

Dean’s heart stopped. “So what?” he wondered. 

Crowley tapped his pointer finger on the rim of his drink in irritation. “So, Cas will die. Unless you can get his grace back within the next five or six days.” 

“Five or six days? That’s all you gave him?” Dean asked in a fit of rage. 

“That’s all I could give him!” Crowley exclaimed sharply. “Time spells are temperamental enough, and fiddling with angel business never works out as well as you’d like,” he told him. “And it’s not very accurate anyway.” 

“You’re not helping your situation much, Crowley,” Dean finally snapped. “What are we supposed to do?” 

Crowley gave a chuckle. “There’s no “we” in this, Dean. I fulfilled my part of the deal.” 

Dean started pacing, his shoulders tight and his jaw set. “Tell me how to fix this, or I’ll summon you down here just to stab your ass!” 

“Temper, Dean,” Crowley chided. “You wouldn’t want to piss off your only way of saving Cas, now would you?” 

Dean closed his eyes and grounded himself for a moment, fighting against that urge to punch a hole in the wall. “What can I do to fix this?” 

“I’ve already said you can get his grace back,” Crowley reminded him. “Though, that’s no easy task. And I haven’t got a counterspell strong enough to get rid of the witch’s. She’s powerful, probably been studying magic for 500 years or more.” 

Dean went back to pacing. “So what, then? How do we fix it? Cas’s grace is with Metatron, and not even locator spells can find him.” 

Crowley hummed in thought and held out his glass to be refilled. “Doesn’t that bunker of yours have endless knowledge? I’d suggest starting there.” 

“What?” asked Dean as his voice rose in pitch. He’d expected Crowley to be of little help, but Sam and Kevin had already scoured the books the bunker possessed. 

Crowley smirked as he took another swig of his drink. “It’s simple, Dean. All that glitters isn’t gold, after all.” 

Without another word, the line beeped and Dean was left with a heavy heart and a pit in his stomach. It settled like a rock and weighed him down. He held the phone open for a moment longer before tossing it onto his bed and running a tired hand down his face. 

He could’ve strangled Crowley in that instant with no hesitation. He was beyond angry at this point, and a knot of terror gnawed at his mind. 

*****

“I’ve got nothing,” Kevin said with a sigh, closing the book with a thud. “None of these tell us anything about stuff like this.” He was tired beyond belief.

Sam carded a shaking hand through his hair and pursed his lips together. “Should’ve known it wouldn’t be easy. It never is,” he remarked coldly. He was as exhausted as Kevin, but couldn’t bear to quit without answers. 

Footsteps drew both of their attention to the entrance where Dean waltzed in. “Surprise, surprise, Crowley was no help at all,” he said. 

Kevin dropped his head into his hands and rubbed adamantly at his eyes. “Sounds about right.” 

“Yeah,” scoffed Sam in agreement. “He didn’t say anything useful?” 

Dean shook his head. “Unless we get Cas’s grace back, which won’t happen because we’ve got no idea where Metatron is hiding out.” He made his way to the metal table and plopped down into the seat across from them, face drawn. 

“Great,” Kevin said. The silence hung over all of them, tension palpable in the heavy air. 

“He did say something weird,” Dean suddenly recalled. Sam perked up and motioned to his brother to continue. “He was talking about the bunker, and starting here. And that all that glitters isn’t gold.” 

“You mean like the song?” asked Kevin absently, barely paying attention as he picked at a hangnail. 

“No, that’s all that glitters is gold,” Sam cut in quickly. “Not that it matters,” he added in a rush. “How is that supposed to help us?” 

Dean shrugged. “Like I would know? It’s Crowley, dude. I just figured he was spouting nonsense,” he admitted. 

“I’ll look in the database and see what I can find,” Sam spoke up. “Maybe the Men of Letters has something tucked away.” 

“I’ll check with Cas and see if that rings a bell,” Kevin added as he stood to find the angel. 

Dean nodded to them both, grateful. “Tell me if you need any help,” he told his brother. Sam glanced at him in surprise but sobered and nodded. 

“Yeah, of course,” he said. “Actually, it’d be a huge help if you look through the folders they kept.” 

Dean didn’t say a word, but disappeared around the corner of the metal shelves to retrieve a box. He came back as Sam was pulling up the Men of Letters database on his laptop. They sat in silence and researched together. 

Dean flipped through folder after folder of papers, while Sam busied himself typing different things into the search bar. 

*****

“Hey, Cas,” Kevin greeted with a slight smile. Cas raised his hand as a response. 

“I’m guessing Crowley did not prove fruitful?” he asked first. 

Kevin scratched at his cheek. “Not necessarily. He said something about something. Sam and Dean are researching in the basement, so I came to ask you,” he said. 

Cas turned to look at him. “Of course. Ask away.” 

“Crowley said something about all that glitters?”


	25. Day Twenty Five - “Wake Laughing”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you thought I forgot about Kevin’s whole “Cas your feathers”   
> I didn’t   
> So know you get to know what that was about

Prompt a Day #25

Cas stiffened at the words. Kevin waited for him to say something, but it seemed hours passed. “Cas?” 

The angel stood up and hurried to the basement with Kevin following swiftly behind. 

“Holy shit,” Sam exclaimed just as Cas arrived. He rushed over and turned off the monitor, panting heavily. “Hey! What the hell, man?” 

Kevin stared at the angel in confusion. “What’s going on?” he asked. 

“Cas? Talk to us, you’ve got us,” Dean prompted gently. He stood and placed a hand on the other’s shoulder. The angel flinched at the touch and moved away, something foreign in his eyes. 

Sam was on his feet now too, glancing between the angel and Dean. “Cas, it’s alright. You’re safe, you’re home,” he soothed in a soft voice. 

Cas’s wings were pulled insanely tight against his back, feathers fluffed up. They glittered in the dim light (he had molted in a few short minutes earlier that day, despite his lack of grace. It had been agonizing to the angel, but every single feather had been restored back into prime condition. And he’d been forced to take a nap after the exhausting ordeal). 

“This isn’t good,” Cas managed to say. His fingers worked needlessly against the air, as if kneading bread. “This is not good. Not at all.” 

Dean tried again to reach out to him, and Cas grabbed onto his hand in desperation. He clung to him like a lifeline. “Hey, hey. Just tell us what’s going on so we can help you.” 

Cas met his eyes and Dean could see the fright deep within the oceans. “Its a saying.” 

“Yeah, we know, Cas,” Sam told him. “But what does it mean in regards to you?” 

“Exactly what it means in regards to anyone. Not everything is as good as it looks,” Cas told them. “I assume this means my wings.” 

“But the Men of Letters database had something,” Sam piped in. 

Cas looked at him and shook his head. “The Men of Letters know nothing of angels. Or Heaven, for that matter. It’s likely a translation of Shakespeare’s Merchant of Venice.” 

“Why’d you get so freaked out if it’s just the same meaning as we thought?” Dean suddenly asked. Cas gave him a worried look (because he should’ve known Dean wouldn’t miss anything like that). “Does this have something to do with the red feather I found in my room?” 

Sam and Kevin exchanged a look at the implications there, but said nothing. 

“You found a red feather?” Cas wondered in a strange voice, eyes darting around the room as if searching for something. 

“Yeah,” said Dean. “I thought it was weird since I never found any others. Just the one. And it was small. Like tiny,” he held his thumb and pointer finger up to estimate the length in the air. 

“Those are down feathers,” Cas told him. “Though I’m not sure what would make it change if I have no grace. I certainly didn’t have that color before,” he added almost to himself. He seemed lost in thought and no one wanted to interrupt. 

Maybe it meant nothing, but Dean knew he’d be a fool to think that. It was very likely that something this witch had done caused this. 

The only thing to do was sleep and hope it was all a joke so they could simply wake laughing.


	26. Day Twenty Six - “2 P.M.”

Prompt a Day #26

It was currently 1:30 in the afternoon at the bunker. All time went to researching what could cause the change in Cas’s feathers without his grace. 

And there was nothing to be found. It seemed Cas was right that the Men of Letters knew nothing about angels, and it was quickly becoming apparent that no one else did either. 

Angels hadn’t visited the earth in centuries, according to Cas. Back then, they’d been even more discreet than they were now. So finding information on them was impossible. There was not even a mention of the creatures in the database or any of the folders. 

Kevin couldn’t even find anything online or in any foreign tomes. Not anything accurate (with help from Cas they were able to see nothing was true about all the controversy and theories on the winged beings). In fact, it was evident that everything had been kept under tight wraps, just like the angels had wanted. 

Dean pulled down the last box from the back of the top shelf, coughing as the dust assaulted his senses. He waved his hand in front of his face to rid the air of the musty scent and returned to the table as Sam typed yet another thing into the search bar. 

“This is pointless,” Kevin suddenly snapped, throwing another paper ball into the nearby trash can. A frown settled deeply into his face. 

Dean rolled his eyes at the kid and opened the only folder in this box. He froze when he saw the first word on the paper. “Found something,” he said cautiously, afraid it was too good to be true. 

Sam straightened and rubbed at his eyes. “What?” 

“I found something. Cas come here, tell me if this is good,” Dean motioned the angel over as he moved the box aside to make room. 

Sam couldn’t help but stifle a yawn as Cas hastily looked over what Dean held out to him. His mouth moved as he read. “Seems I’ve underestimated the Men of Letters’ knowledge.” 

Dean’s heart skipped a beat and let out a laugh of relief. “This whole folder is full of stuff, guys. It’s got probably twenty or thirty pages!” 

Kevin shut his laptop with a very audible clack and stood. “Great. I’m taking a nap,” he said before taking off. 

Dean looked up. “If you’re tired, I’ll take first research shift,” he said, motioning to Sam. 

Sam shook his head and held out a hand. “No, we’ll split it,” he retorted with a determined glimmer in his eyes. Dean hesitated for a moment, and then finally handed his brother the first half of the papers and kept the more recent ones for himself. 

Both brothers turned to look at Cas, who suddenly seemed uninterested in the folder. “You gonna help?” asked Dean. 

Cas didn’t even glance at the hunter when he shook his head. “I am going to make lunch. Neither of you have eaten.” 

Dean watched him leave with a heavy stare, his hands tightening around the papers. He glared down at the table for a moment before letting out an annoyed breath and focusing on the information. Sam had already worked his way through the top sheet, ignoring the emotions his brother was fighting against. 

*****

“You found anything yet?” Sam asked when his watch read 1:55 in the afternoon. 

Dean huffed and shook his head. “I wish. I’m guessing you’ve got nothing, too?” 

“You’d be guessing right,” Sam muttered. His stack was dwindling to a few sheer sheets of paper, with only one side written on. Dean was no better off, and currently only had two papers left. He hadn’t started reading either, for fear that they’d find nothing. 

Dean stood and raised his arms above his head, linking his fingers to stretch. “Break time, Sammy.” 

“Dude, we’re almost through these,” Sam said. 

Dean looked down at where he was sitting. “All work and no play makes Dean a dull boy,” he joked. Sam scoffed out a laugh but rose and followed his brother. An anguished yell sent them racing to the kitchen. The clock had just reached 2:00 p.m..


	27. Day Twenty Seven - “Sundays are For...”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Home stretch guys, and yes it’s action all the way to the end

Prompt a Day #27

Cas had collapsed on the floor when Sam and Dean found him in the kitchen. Kevin had beat them to his side, and was kneeling beside him helplessly, hands hovering above him.

“What the hell happened?” Sam asked in concern. 

Kevin looked up at them with wide, bloodshot eyes. “After he screamed I came in here to see what was going on, and he fell down! I’m not sure what’s going on, but he’s still breathing at least.” 

Dean joined him without saying much, his breath ragged in his throat as he reached toward his angel. 

“No, don’t! Don’t touch him!” Kevin exclaimed in a rush, latching onto Dean’s arm. “When I did it pained him,” he added by way of explanation at the hunter’s questioning gaze. 

Dean’s hand aborted its motion, though it lingered for a long moment before finally dropping to his side. “Cas?” His voice trembled in his ears and the weight in his stomach about doubled. 

The angel stirred slightly and then settled. 

“I wonder if this is what Crowley meant,” Sam spoke up suddenly, worried about his friend but also wanting to know what the hell was going on. 

A poor of red smoke appeared in the kitchen. “I heard my name,” Crowley announced by way of greeting. “Oh, great. I see the pest - I mean pet - is finally feeling the effects of the spell.” 

Dean stood and whirled on him, fists clenched. “What the hell is going on?” 

Crowley reached a hand up and wiped at his cheek as if Dean had spit on him. “Honestly, do you listen to anything I say? I literally just said what was happening, did I not?” He looked to Sam in disbelief at his older brother. 

“What do we do?” Kevin cut in, despite the speed of his heart in his chest. 

Crowley glanced at him, as if just noticing him, and gave a bland chuckle. “You can’t do anything, little prophet. You touch the angel, and he dies. You try to reverse the spell, he dies. Basically anything you try to do ends in Cassie’s death.” 

Dean glowered at him as Sam focused deep on Crowley’s words. “The only way to stop this is to kill the witch that cursed him, right, Crowley?” 

Crowley gave the younger Winchester a grin. “You always were the smarter one, moose,” he commended smugly. 

“Where is she?” asked Dean. 

“Who knows,” replied Crowley. “She’s likely halfway across the globe by now,” he added with a shrug. 

Dean’s jaw tightened slightly as he stared at the demon. “How about this, Crowley,” he began in a menacing tone. “You hunt her down and kill her, or I carve you up into little pieces and feed you to the birds.” 

Crowley’s smile fell and morphed into an ugly snarl as his eyes flashed red. “Don’t threaten me, Dean.” He raised his hand as if to snap. “Do anything I don’t like, and all I have to do is snap and break your weak, little neck.” 

Dean stepped forward, jutting out his chin in his usual show of defiance and bravado. “Try me, you punk-ass demon.” 

Crowley paused at the act of Dean’s. The hunter had seen right through him (because the hesitation gave everything away at once, otherwise Dean would already be on the ground). “Why should I kill the witch? What’s in it for me?” 

Dean couldn’t hide the smirk. “You kill the witch, and we’ll worry about what you get when it’s done,” he said. “If you come back and she’s not dead, I will stab you in your face.” 

Sam stared at his brother in shock. Sure, he’d seen him pissed before, but this seemed to be a whole new level (of course, it was Castiel. Everything was different with the angel involved). Crowley swiveled his head to look at Cas on the floor. 

Sweat lingered heavily on his brow, and his usually tan complexion was a stark gray. Not to mention the restless flutter of his eyes underneath the closed lids. 

“Fine. I’ll kill the bitch,” he finally growled. “Don’t expect anymore favors from me after this, though. I’m not your friend.” 

Sam and Dean took a step back as Crowley faded into red smoke and the evaporated. “Think he’ll do it?” Sam wondered, face worried. 

Dean dropped his gaze to the tile. “He better,” he finally said in a rough voice. He didn’t want to think of Cas’s body going motionless. “This is not what Sundays are for.”


	28. Day Twenty Eight - “Don’t Blink”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for graphic scenes closer to the end (depicting a nightmare Dean has)

Prompt a Day #28

The morning showed no marked improvement in Cas’s condition. The only upside was that he wasn’t getting any worse, either. It was the only relief that Dean felt, simply knowing the spell at least worked slow (though that also pulled his heart into his throat). 

He’d thrown a blanket over his form after deciding it was an absolute awful idea to try and move him. And four hour shifts were instated, of course Dean took the first one. 

When Kevin came to relieve him, he convinced him he wasn’t tired (despite being on his nth cup of coffee).

“Don’t you have to pee?” Kevin wondered. 

“Nah, I’m good,” replied Dean. Needless to say, he’d been using the kitchen sink and rinsing it down (not that he would ever tell Kevin or Sam about that particular bit of information). “You could start another pot of coffee.” 

Kevin glanced at the empty pot and grimaced. “How many of these have you been through?” 

Dean examined the bottom of his mug as if it were suddenly interesting. “Only two, I think,” he said finally. Which was a lie, since he’d downed an entire pot in about five minutes of his shift. 

Kevin gave a sigh, but started another pot. 

Dean thanked the boy as he left and returned his attention to Cas. He seemed to be asleep now, though his body was tense. Other than that, there was no sign to how much pain he might be in. 

*****

“Dean, you need to rest,” was the first thing out of Sam’s mouth when he came to take over. His brother stared groggily at him but shook his head. 

“Can’t,” he muttered. 

Sam clicked his tongue as he sat beside his brother. “Come on, you stole Kevin’s shift. You’ve been sitting here staring at the poor guy for eight hours,” he reprimanded gently. “And you barely slept the night before.” 

Dean didn’t seem to register his words (or, more likely was ignoring him completely). The silence stretched on for a long while between the two. Dean stood to refill his mug once again, and then plopped right back down where he’d been on the linoleum. 

Sam just watched his movements with concern. “Dean, I know you’re worried. I am too,” he began. 

“Shut up,” Dean barked, his grip tightening on his cup. 

“No, man, I’m serious!” Sam argued. “It won’t do Cas any good when he comes to and needs help, and you’re passed out from sleep deprivation,” he went on. “Not to mention you haven’t peed all day.” 

“Used th’sink,” said Dean. 

Sam paused for a moment. “Gross,” he finally concluded. “Still, it’s not good for you.” 

“Not like I can sleep anyway,” spoke Dean. Sam raised one eyebrow in question, but let his brother continue on his own time. “Every time I fucking blink, Sam, it’s just...” he trailed off at the wobble in his voice. “All I see is death.” 

Sam couldn’t help the grief in his brother’s voice, though he wished he could. “I’m sorry, man. It’s been a lot, one thing after another. But we’re gonna get through this. Together, right? Like we always have.” 

Dean risked a glance at Sam and managed a tiny smile. “Yeah. Together,” he agreed.

*****

In the end, it was Crowley that convinced Dean to sleep. He appeared in his usual way, before both of the boys. 

“I’m afraid this may be harder than I previously anticipated,” he started. 

“What do you mean?” wondered Sam without hesitation, frowning. 

Crowley wrung his hands together and cleared his throat. “This witch - she’s rather good at hiding herself. It’s taking everything I’ve got to track her. Rest assured, I will find her and stab the bitch in the heart. But I’m currently at a standstill,” he explained smoothly, though his voice betrayed his nerves. 

“For how long?” Dean suddenly spoke up, glaring up at the demon. 

Crowley pursed his lips in thought, poking the air as if adding things in his head. “Another day, at the most to find her.” He practically fidgeted on the spot.

“No,” Dean snapped. “How long does he have?” 

Crowley dropped his eyes to Castiel and frowned in concentration. “Hard to say, honestly,” he admitted, blinking rapidly. “I assume the witch didn’t think she’d be found. It may be an eternal suffering, rather than a slow death.” 

“Earlier you said if the spell was to continue, he would die. You’re taking that back now?” Sam questioned, not missing a beat. 

Crowley’s eyes darted to him before returning to Cas. “No, no. I’m just saying, it may not work like you’d typically expect.” 

“If he dies, you’re bringing him back,” ordered Dean as he clambered ungracefully to his feet. “Or so help me, I will torture you just for shits and giggles.” 

Crowley couldn’t hide the gulp at the threat. “Yes, of course. Seems fair and reasonable.” He nodded along to his words. 

“Now get out, and find the son of a bitch that did this,” Dean snapped, taking a menacing step toward him. 

Crowley dipped his head and took off without a goodbye. 

“I’m gonna go pass out,” Dean said then, throwing a wave over his shoulder. 

Sam just watched him leave. What the hell had he just witnessed? 

*****

Dean awoke to a warm field of flowers. Castiel lied beside him in the grass, grinning over at him. His skin glistened beautifully in the golden light. 

Dean propped himself up and leaned over to capture those lips in a kiss. Cas reached up and ran his calloused hand through Dean’s hair. “I’ve missed this.” 

Dean opened his eyes, and then jerked away. Cas’s mouth hung open at an odd angle, his sapphire gaze filling with an inky black. “Cas?” His voice sounded small to his own ears. 

Bruises blossomed over Cas’s tan skin, marring the perfect feature. Dean scrambled away as a skinny hand reached toward him, gray spreading from the fingertips. 

The field of flowers disappeared suddenly, and Dean found himself in a pile of dead and rotting leaves. 

Cas’s battered form grinned at him, and it was garish to see the twisted jaw move that way. “Dean, please don’t blink.” 

Dean’s eyes widened at that, and he once again scooted away from the awful image of his angel. It lurched forward at him, hands finally disintegrating into dust as a foul breeze blew. 

It flew toward him, and Dean’s eyes fell closed. 

“Don’t blink!”


	29. Day Twenty Nine - “I Write...”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is short but the last one is going to be insanely long (and even longer than my usual long chapters)

Prompt a Day #29

*three new messages*

Dean gave a heavy sigh, rubbing his eyes before looking at the messages he’d received. 

Crowley: I’ve located the witch, but I may require the help of one of you buffoons.   
*2:33 a.m.*  
Crowley: Also, I believe the spell may not be fatal. Though, why I think that is hard to explain over text.  
*2:38 a.m.*

The last text was from Kevin, to let him know that Cas was doing the same as before. No better, but (thankfully) no worse. He responded to Crowley’s text with a simple greeting first. 

Dean: then get your ass down here and explain it to me and Sam and we’ll figure something out  
*Sent 6:12 a.m.*

He climbed to his feet in a daze and switched into a clean shirt and jeans, not bothering to put shoes on over his socked feet. Crowley was perched on the couch near the books, a glass of whiskey in hand. 

“Squirrel, so nice to see you facing the day,” he said. 

Dean just narrowed his eyes and called for his brother. 

“What now?” Sam asked the demon, glaring at him. 

Crowley gave a feigned face of hurt. “So rude to your friend, moose. I’ve come in peace, after all.” 

Dean rolled his eyes. “Can you just explain this shit to us, and then leave?” 

Crowley clicked his tongue, raised his glass to drink, and then cleared his throat. “I know where the witch is located,” he began. 

“Great. Go kill her,” Sam interrupted before he could continue. He was impatient when it came to being near Crowley, especially after all the demon had confessed in the church. 

“That’s why I’m here, Sammy dearest. I need your help,” Crowley looked between them. “Because, as I’ve discovered, the witch is a bit more powerful than I am,” he admitted. 

“Fine, you’ve got my help,” Sam cut in, not giving Dean a chance to speak. He was surprised to find that his brother gave no complaint. 

“Thank you,” Crowley dipped his head in a sarcastic gesture. “Now, the spell. I don’t believe it is fatal after all.” 

Sam glanced at Dean. “Right, what complicated explanation do you have for us?” asked Dean. 

Crowley dropped his eyes to the floor and let go of his glass. It vanished before hitting the ground and shattering. “Well, for starters, Castiel isn’t getting any worse. And he was in pretty bad shape before the spell took place.” He paused as the brothers nodded. 

“With as weak as he was after the molt, if the spell were fatal he’d have been killed fairly quick,” Crowley went on. “And most spells that affect angels like this are not fatal,” he added. 

“That was what was so complicated that you couldn’t text it?” Dean wondered with a tinge of anger in his voice. 

Crowley pulled his lips back into a grimace, gazing at the hunter. “It is rather hard to tell if you’d have understood what I write, Dean. You are the dafter of the two,” he jabbed. 

Dean’s face contorted with rage, and Sam was prepared to hold him back if needed. He was shocked to watch his brother walk away (albeit with tense shoulders). 

“Let’s go and get this over with,” Sam piped up as he moved toward Crowley. 

“Have you got your witch-killing bullets?” Crowley questioned. Sam took off to get them, and returned a moment later, ready. They left in a red cloud of smoke, and Sam’s stomach plummeted to his feet.


	30. Day Thirty - “Flip Side”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY   
> I hope you all enjoy this last chapter! I had a really fun time writing this, even if it took me longer than my allotted 30 days, and I hope you can all forgive me for that

Prompt a Day #30

“What now?” asked Kevin nervously, watching Cas struggle for breath. 

“Now? We wait,” Dean replied evenly, despite the sirens erupting in his mind. “I’ll see you on the flip side.”

*****

-3 Hours Earlier-

Crowley and Sam arrived in Hell. “What are we doing here?” wondered Sam, giving the demon an appraising glare. 

Crowley tsked at Sam. “You may be prepared, but I need weapons, too. I am of upmost value, being the King of Hell and all that,” he answered as he gave a smirk and opened a metal cabinet that had suddenly appeared. He withdrew two hex bags and handed one to Sam. “So she can’t turn you into a rabid person.” 

“What?” Sam wondered in confusion, taking the bag. 

Crowley tucked his into a pocket inside his coat. “Don’t ask. It’s not a pretty sight, I’ll tell you that much.” 

The younger Winchester let out a tiny shudder, and then stashed the bag safely in his jean pocket. “Are we good to go?”

“Hardly,” chuckled Crowley. “I still need a gun in case things go awry, as they often do when a Winchester is involved.” With Sam throwing him an annoyed look, the demon turned to another metal cabinet. The other one vanished. 

After that, Crowley turned and laced his arm with Sam’s own. “Now, we are ready. I’m going to transport us as close as I can, but she has powerful warding up. We will likely have to do some walking.” 

Sam just nodded in answer and they were off. His stomach dropped at the sudden acceleration, but somehow Crowley’s arm gave him a sense of comfort as they flew off. 

Wherever they were currently, it was cold. And snowing. Sam shivered under his thin jacket. “You didn’t tell me it would be this cold,” he said. 

Crowley glanced at him and shrugged. “I would be a gentleman and offer you my coat, but I doubt it would fit you,” he finally announced with a smug smile. Sam couldn’t help but roll his eyes at the lousy joke. 

“Let’s just go. Once we get there, I’ll go around back like we planned and everything will be fine.” 

*****

“What did Crowley say about this witch?” Kevin asked as he sat beside Dean and watched Cas. 

“She’s powerful,” Dean reminded him. “Powerful enough to warrant stealing my brother to help fight her,” he added as an afterthought. 

Kevin gave a small chuckle. “Do you think she’s powerful enough to cast a spell from long range?” 

Dean looked over at him and grimaced at the thought. “Let’s hope not,” he said. He didn’t want to know what she was capable of, especially since he was anxious enough already. 

Thinking the witch may be able to cast a spell on a target nowhere near her was terrifying. 

“Sorry,” Kevin went on. “I guess I shouldn’t have asked that, huh?” He had the decency to look abashed at his boldness, but his apology sounded far from sincere. Leave it to the boy’s natural curiosity to leave Dean feeling more vulnerable than ever. 

He hated that feeling. It crushed his insides and made his instincts dull. The blood pounding in his ears drowned out everything else that may be lurking around.

Dean found his eyes darting around the kitchen, as if expecting some invisible intruder to show itself. Cas suddenly started shivering, despite the blanket on top of him. 

“I hate this, Dean. We can’t even help him, since touching him makes him hurt,” Kevin frowned as the angel curled into himself. Sweat beaded his brow and his lips quivered, teeth clacking together. 

“The least we can do is get him another blanket,” suggested Dean. 

Kevin nodded in agreement. “I’ll get one.” 

*****

“Which way?” asked Sam when Crowley touched down and withdrew from the taller man. He pointed to one side and motioned for Sam to follow and stay quiet. 

Crunching snow wasn’t exactly the best of conditions, but at least it was still powdery and somewhat muffled their heavy breathing. 

Out here, everything looked the same. It was barren, and the landscape was as flat as ever. At this rate, the witch would see them coming. Sam halted and grabbed Crowley’s shoulder to stop him. The demon moved close so they could whisper. 

“It’s too flat, she’ll see us coming for miles,” Sam told him, sending a puff of smoke following his words. 

Crowley glanced the way they were going and frowned deeply. “Yes, I know. There isn’t much we can do. Any cloak I put on us will vanish within seconds under this warding. And she’s likely powerful enough to see through any cloaking even if the wards weren’t there,” he admitted. The two shared a concerned look. 

“We may have to split up. Two targets would be harder for her to hit, right?” Sam wondered, glancing up to make sure they were indeed alone. 

Crowley considered this for a long moment. “I’m not sure,” he said. “It’s hard to say what she’s prepared for. I would rather not get separated though, not out here. We’re both unfamiliar with the territory.” 

Sam nodded once as he drew his lips into a thin line. “Maybe she is, too. Maybe we can use that to our advantage,” he mused. 

“I doubt that,” came an eerie voice. Crowley was thrown forward into Sam, and they toppled back into the snow. Sam let out a groan as the demon landed on top of him, but managed to recover enough to help Crowley up and scramble to his feet. Thankfully, Sam’s gun still rested tightly in his belt.

“Hello, boys,” greeted the witch as she materialized in front of them. She grinned a malicious smirk, fiery red hair stark against her alabaster skin and the snow. “Suffocetur,” she threw a hand at Sam who collapsed to his knees. 

Crowley flinched at the noise and watched, about to kneel. “Manete,” said the witch. Suddenly, Crowley found he couldn’t move an inch. 

Sam gasped for air on the cold ground, his skin already turning red from the lack of oxygen and intense cold. “Let him go,” Crowley demanded. “I’m the one here to kill you. He’s just a pitiful slave I dragged along.” 

The witch chuckled cruelly. “Oh, please. I’m not an idiot, despite what you may think. I know a Winchester when I see one,” she declared evenly, glancing down at Sam’s weakening struggles. “And in case you’re wondering how I managed to hex you with your wee little hex bags on hand, those are simply far too weak for my power, dearies.” 

Crowley growled in annoyance, and tried in vain to move. If Sam died, Dean would have his hide. And Crowley was far from ready to die. “How about a deal, then?” 

“I think not,” replied the witch. She motioned toward Sam and allowed him to suck down air. “I’m not a monster. I don’t plan to kill the angel, just use him.” 

“For what?” asked Sam in a rough voice, glaring up at her. “And if you don’t plan to kill him, then why the hell is he lying on the kitchen floor dying!?” 

The witch let out a shocked gasp. “Oh, Samuel, he’s not dying! In fact, I saved him! Did you know that?” 

At the confused and disbelieving look both Sam and Crowley threw her, she went on. “It’s true! I - I helped him molt his new feathers! I was the one who restored his poor wings!” 

Sam let out a scoff. “Right, I’m sure that was all for pure intentions, too.” 

“What’s your big plan, Red?” Crowley questioned, glaring at her and willing his body to move. If he left, she would surely see the plume of red smoke. It was too obvious in this empty land. 

She turned to him and frowned. “Why would I tell you that? The two people who came to murder me as I slept. I’m just lucky that I got hungry, or I’d surely be dead. And your angel would be gone.” 

Sam raised an eyebrow in question. “What the hell do you mean, he’d be gone?” 

“You really don’t know? Oh, Fergus, you are still a manipulative bastard,” she laughed, looking to Crowley who had tensed impossibly more. “Listen, Samuel. We all know what happens to an angel with no grace and no wings. If I hadn’t saved him, he’d be dead! Of course, I linked him to myself. So if you kill me, your friend goes, too.” 

Sam gritted his teeth in anger at her announcement. “Why the fuck would you do that?” 

The witch sneered at him. “Foul language gets us nowhere, Samuel. Not that I would tell you anyway,” she said. “Besides, it’s not really your concern, now is it? Honestly, where is Dean? I expected him to be here. The knight in shining armor to save his poor damsel.” 

“Oh, shut up, will you?” Crowley snapped in a rush, obviously fed up with the witch. “You really enjoy hearing yourself talk, don’t you?” 

“Well, then I guess we aren’t so different after all,” replied the witch with a feigned smile. It seemed to pain her, and Crowley could suddenly feel his body regaining movement. Sam even stood, glaring at the witch. She threw her arm down and shouted, “Manete!” but the spell did nothing. 

She doubled over, coughing up blood that painted the snow with vicious crimson droplets. “Release Cas from the spell, or we’ll kill you,” Crowley ordered. Sam glanced over at him, but he simply shrugged quickly and stepped closer. 

“And it won’t be quick,” Sam added, despite his confusion. “We’ll make it painful,” he growled to her. She looked up at them with fear in her eyes, but shook her head. 

“Never,” she asserted stubbornly. She clutched at her stomach as another wave hit her, and she retched up another pool of garnet. 

“Do it now, and I’ll end your suffering,” Sam demanded, striding forward and retracting his gun to point at her head. 

The witch let out a sob at the agony and dug her fingers into the freezing snow. “Do you promise?” she asked in a pitiful voice. 

Sam cocked the hammer and readied his finger over the trigger. “Yes.” 

The red head nodded, and then sat up as straight as she could manage. She bowed her head before beginning. “Ee roh, mah day say tah. Kah toh, mah day, tay roh. Sah boh, tay lah!” A shimmering light appeared around her wrists (much like handcuffs) and then broke and vanished. “It is done,” she stuttered out. Her eyes met Sam’s in a silent plead. 

He pulled the trigger, and she crumpled to the ground, motionless. 

“Are you sure she broke it?” Crowley wondered as he stepped up to Sam’s side. 

He hesitated, and then finally gave a nod. “Yeah, I saw it break.” 

They laced their arms together again, and took off. 

*****

“What now?” asked Kevin nervously, watching Cas struggle for breath. 

“Now? We wait,” Dean replied evenly, despite the sirens erupting in his mind. “I’ll see you on the flip side.” 

After Sam had texted him to let him know the witch was dead and Cas would be free, he was still worried. What if they witch had cast some spell right before the trigger had been pulled? What if Cas was actually dying? 

He barely responded when Crowley and Sam appeared in the kitchen, covered in flakes of snow that melted in a rush. Dean was too focused on Cas’s well-being to notice that Kevin had joined them and was asking all kinds of questions about what they had faced. 

“Can I touch him?” 

Dean wasn’t sure when he had planned on asking that, but his mind had let it slip out. He sounded like a girl, and he wanted to cringe at the need in his voice. 

“The wicked witch is dead, so you should be able to,” Sam spoke. The three of them watched as Dean scooted closer and reached out to latch onto Cas’s hand. 

There was no adverse consequence, so Dean pulled his head onto his lap. Crowley rolled his eyes and gave a single wave before taking off. Kevin and Sam seemed to look anywhere but that the two men on the floor (especially since one of them was an Angel of the Lord who may or may not be dying). 

Sam picked up on something Dean was whispering, and realized he was singing to Castiel. The song their mother used to sing him to sleep with, by The Beatles. It was barely audible, even in the total silence, as if Dean were simply breathing the lyrics out instead of giving them their full form. 

Cas bolted upright, sucking down air as if his life depended on it, even though he didn’t need to breathe (his vessel still did, and Jimmy was thankful for the oxygen). Sam knelt down beside him and clapped him on the shoulder. “Easy, Cas,” he soothed. 

Castiel glanced over his shoulder at the older hunter. “Dean,” he greeted with a surprising smile. Dean returned it with his own cheerful grin (it hurt Sam just to look at, he’d never seen his brother so fucking happy before). 

“Dean, is this the flip side?” asked Cas, letting him know he’d heard every word the hunter had said over the past day. 

Dean laughed joyously and pulled him into a much needed hug. “Yeah, Cas. This is the flip side.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Want a sequel? An epilogue? Let me know in the comments!

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know how I’m doing!


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